


La Nymphe Europe

by River_Melody_Pond



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 'La Nymphe Europe' is basically 'A Song of Ice and Fire', Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne Tarth is basically GRRM, F/M, Forgotten First Meeting, Lannister/Targaryen Rivalry, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentioned Cersei Lannister, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Minor Rhaegar Targaryen/Cersei Lannister, Modern Westeros, No Incest, POV Tyrion Lannister, PoV Secret Child, Scars, Secret Child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Melody_Pond/pseuds/River_Melody_Pond
Summary: ++++++++++La Nymphe Europeis the story of how renowned authorBrienne Tarthmet literature professorJaime Lannisterin Meereen a long long long time ago... told by everyone else,exceptJaime and Brienne. Why so? Simply because he does not remember and she wishes she didn't remember.++++++++++Chapter 13 - RHAEGAR III: The Shipwreck (part1)Remember, remember... the ghosts of the past make an appearance, all too eager to ruin Rhaegar's date on Tarth.++++++++++(Initially, a prompt aiming to be 'forgotten first meeting' + 'scars'. It degenerated into a solid story.)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Original Character(s), Jon Snow/Original Male Character(s), Rhaegar Targaryen/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 183
Kudos: 116





	1. TYRION I - Victoria and Albert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JailynnW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ **Dear JailynnW,** _   
_Thank you for the prompt, the beautiful PoV banners and the wonderful posters. As you know, this story grew to mean a lot to me. It's my love child. I want it to thrive and make you_ as its official fairy godmother_ proud._   
  
** _Dear readers,_ **   
_I hope you will enjoy the ride and bear with me until the end. It's going to be a different kind of story_ a puzzle of sorts. Hope you will find it beautiful and interesting._   
  
** _Happy reading!_ **   
** _Xx_ **

++++++++++++++++++++

_“Why do we have to be naked again? And why do I have to be there, anyway? You know I hate being around the people you hang out with… and then you want me to bare myself in front of so many strangers…”_ His drop-dead gorgeous brother complained over the phone_ as if he did not look like a sculpted God even at his thirty and nine. Tyrion rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. He was used to it by now. After all, complaining about everything was all Jaime ever did.

“Brother, – by all means – do not come naked!” He said jokingly, for it was his utmost duty to suck it up and pretend his older brother was not the reason why his life had been shortened by at least a decade. “It is a pool party. Have you not read the invite? You have to wear a red bathing suit. It doesn’t have to be a speedo! If you are so prude, wear shorts for the Maiden’s sake.”

_“A bathing suit is naked!”_ Jaime snarled, prompting Tyrion to drink the remaining of his whiskey in one go. Saying that his father - the old snark Tywin Lannister - was a difficult man was as general a truth as saying the sun rose in the east. On the other hand, saying that his brother was a difficult man_ Seven Hells! _that_ was a gross understatement!

“If I were you, I’d quit complaining. I assure you it’s entirely not too late to change the male dress code to specifically red banana hammocks…”

_“You would not dare!”_ Jaime chuckled softly and Tyrion smiled sadly. Truth being told_ more than just difficult, Jaime was fragile. He had been so ever since their sister died_ over 17 years before. Fragile_ yes, but in the sense bombs were.

“I totally would and you know it! I can do whatever I want! It is my 35th grand birthday party!” Tyrion exclaimed exuberantly in the hope his brother would laugh. He adored Jaime. Utterly adored him! The two of them_ they kept each other alive. Jaime’s love and protection had been Tyrion’s only shelter and comfort during the sad years of his childhood. In return, Tyrion refused to let Jaime die when Cersei did. Single-handedly, he struggled to keep Jaime alive – day by day – every single day, for 17 years. Well_ untrue_ for 16 years – for there was that one _Essos year_ they never spoke of.

_“Exactly, you little minx – your 35th birthday! Not the 15th, not even the 25th. Why do you need a pool party?”_

“Because I am the Imp – trademark! And I am rich. And I am infamous. And I more than doubled our messed up family’s fortune in less than a decade by playing my own game!” Tyrion declared proudly. “I created_ handmade even_ half of all Westerosi celebrities! I make the rules in the film and entertainment industry – and for my birthday, what I want is to see my little gorgeous A-list stars naked in my damned pool.”

_“I thought they had to wear a bathing suit…”_

Tyrion laughed loudly. “A bathing suit _is_ naked, Jaime!”

_“You’re repugnant!” _Jaime said in faux disgust, before exhaling deeply._ “Look, I am sure it will be a tremendous affair, Tyrion. The lousy press will talk about it for ages. But… honestly, I don’t want to be there! I do not actually mind it being a pool party and you know it... it's just too many noisy people... and all those blonde shiny starlets... It's not my scene. Please, understand.” _His brother’s words came as no surprise to him._“We’ll celebrate just the two of us another time.”_ In fact, Tyrion expected to hear some excuses along those lines_ thus the perfect bait had been prepared in advance. 

“Well, you simply must come. As it turns out, I have a multimillion gold-dragon gift for you!” It was more than just a selfish need to have Jaime there for his birthday. It was - yet another - desperate attempt to save him. Jaime lived in a bubble of his own making. On rare – precious – occasions, he was part of the real world, but then again_ most of the time he was not. “Ms Brienne Tarth will attend my party – naked, as that’s the dress code, after all.”

_“Brienne Tarth!?” _Jaime squealed the name out. The sudden and so pure enthusiasm in his brother’s voice told Tyrion the colossal investment he was eager to make was worth every single copper penny. _“Why? How? No way! Tyrion, have you decided to... have you even read the books?” _

“Yes, I have read _La Nymphe Europe_, all twelve novels – twice – and I am hooked and I honestly cannot wait for the 13th volume - for which, by the way, I have a definitive release date.” When Jaime made some deafening noises, Tyrion laughed in satisfaction. The bait - the perfect bait - had been over six moons in the making. Lions&Lions Entertainment Inc. spared no expense in making sure the best deal would be struck. The stakes of buying the copyrights were extremely high not only for the company but for Tyrion himself. “You are right – here, I said it – it truly is the most brilliant piece of fiction out there and it would look glorious on screen. Hence, we have been in talks with Tarth, her publicist and her representatives for a while now and she is finally accepted to sell – for a hells lot of money, I might add – and with particularly weird demands… but, alas, we’ll bring your precious European Wars to life – five seasons will be signed from the very onset.” Jaime was panting at the other end of the line. “Aaaaaaand…” Tyrion stressed while Jaime breathed heavily in and out. “And we’ll commence the story with the events of the prequel – are you seated?” His brother mumbled an affirmative reply. “The first season will cover – the wedding of Victoria and Albert, the spring of revolutions and the making of imperial France…”

_“Oh, my Gods! Tyrion... that is just_ I cannot_ cannot_ absolutely cannot believe you're doing this! Be honest now! Do you really believe in La Nymphe Europe, or you're just doing it for me?”_ Jaime became a – self-proclaimed – renegade the moment their father had decided to pull the plug on Cersei’s life support. It happened two years after their sister’s tragic motorbike accident. Yet, regardless of how many specialists told them she would not wake up, Jaime never ceased to believe that she would one day. It was why he never forgave Tywin for eventually losing faith – for murdering Cersei, as Jaime saw it. Had the decision been left to Jaime as he begged, Cersei would still be vegetating in that private hospital in King’s Landing even as they spoke.

“I am turning your favourite novels into an insanely expensive TV series – of course, I am bloody doing it for you! And the least you can do is attend my birthday party!” Tyrion laughed. Jaime was a brilliant writer himself, but he chose to lecture about writing at Lannisport University instead of doing it.

_“I will be there. Damn it – I will even wear a banana hammock if you insist!”_ Jaime blamed his dyslexia for the decision to retire his pen – as if that affliction had ever impaired his rich imagination in any way. There were editors and a great number of other tools to help him with that. The truth was linked – well, of course – to Cersei.

The two golden Lannister twins had devised from their very cradle the perfect plan regarding everyone’s part within the family business. Tyrion, as he was the smart one, would do everything he nonetheless ended up doing – finding opportunities, producing, getting people to owe their becoming to the Lannisters, turning money into more money_ basically managing everything there was to manage – Cersei’s success being at the top of the list, becasue Cersei was to be the shining star of Lions&Lions Entertainment Inc. – the #1 starlet of the whole of Westeros! The one and only diva! And Jaime – oh, Jaime, the most romantic and sensitive soul one could ever encounter – he had the role of writing Cersei into fame one brilliant character after another.

Everything was perfect and they were finally old enough and ready to go! Tywin was proud of them! He had ok-ed it all – Jaime’s first script, Cersei’s first role...

Then, Rhaegar Targaryen broke his engagement to Cersei, a mere three days before the wedding. More than just humiliated, Cersei was devastated. For two whole days, she cried in bed. Then, on what was supposed to be her wedding day, she wiped her tears away and took her favourite toy for a speedy ride along the coast of the Sunset Sea. She lost control and plunged off a cliff. Those who did not know her claimed it had been a suicide attempt – as if Cersei would ever respond to humiliation by submerging in oblivion! Bullshit! Cersei had been many things, but never one to take the backbench. Cersei would have calmed down and she would have planned such revenge that the most cruel tyrants of history would have shivered in their graves.

“There’s a catch to it…” Tyrion bit his lips.

Nineteen years had passed since the day of the no-wedding. Nineteen years since the day he lost his older siblings_ one to death, the other to a fate worse than death. None of them had a say in Cersei’s fate. The Gods had decided on that matter and no amount of Lannister money could change it. Yet, Jaime was a different story entirely! And Tyrion was so done with seeing his brother fading away. Year after year, he had tried to get Jaime back to being a fully functional human. Year after year, he had failed. If anyone and anything could save Jaime and reignite his desire to live – to actually live and not merely exist! – that _anyone_ was Brienne Tarth and that _anything_ was her book series, La Nymphe Europe. 

_“Of course there is a catch… isn’t it always with you?”_

“Write the scripts for it, Jaime.” Tyrion had wanted the words to sound commanding, yet they came out as a desperate plea – as if Jaime’s entire future depended on them. And maybe it did.

His brother gasped and fell silent. Heartbeats passed and the seconds became more painful as the silence deepened. Tyrion walked to the decanter and poured himself another whiskey. Downed it all in one sip and put the glass down with a heavy sigh. Just when he was ready to insist, Jaime burst into laughter – such mad and genuine laughter Tyrion had not heard in years.

_“Fuck, yeah, I will! I will write the scripts!”_

“Are you serious?” With his heart bursting of hope and unable to believe his ears, Tyrion burst into tears. He promptly covered his mouth to make sure his brother did not hear his muffled sobs over the phone.

_“Yes... yes, I am serious. Actually, I will go read the prequel again and pin down some lines between Victoria and Albert.”_

“I cannot wait to read them...” Tyrion smiled wiping his tears away.

_“See you and Tarth – naked and all – on Saturday! I have to admit that I suddenly love your pool party idea and the red bathing suit dress code – because I swear I would have spent days figuring out what to wear when I meet the almighty Brienne for the first time!”_

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please let me know what you think. Xx_


	2. TYRION II - Meereen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The plot thickens, the mess deepens..._   
  
_ **Happy reading!** _   
_ **Xx** _

++++++++++++++++++++

Champagne pyramids. Platters and platters of colourful shots. Cocktail bars. Alcohol cascading at every turn of the head. Ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and smoked joints. Illegal pills left unattended on tables. Beautiful models in lifeguard swimsuits waitressing for gorgeous starlets in red bikinis, all while flirting with the most handsome men in the industry of entertainment. The music was so loud Tyrion Lannister’s entire estate vibrated under the beats. His guests were each at various stages of drunkenness and it was not yet four hours past noon. It was a brilliant spectacle and the Imp smiled wickedly while observing everyone’s behaviour.

Unlike his guests, he was sober and as sharp as the Valyrian steel swords of old. And he planned to remain so until after the impeccable contracts locked in his study room, carefully laid on his sandalwood desk, were signed by Brienne Tarth and her legal representative. It was a mere formality, for every single detail had been carefully discussed and agreed upon earlier that week. Yet, Tyrion had lived through enough to know that celebrating a victory before the ink on the final page of a contract dried was only inviting trouble.

Also inviting trouble – his precious favourite. “Oh, for goodness sake, Dany!” Tyrion rolled his eyes and threw his arms in the air. The gorgeous twenty-three years old had been singing out of key on a high table for the past several melodies, while a bunch of people way less drunk than her were cheering loudly. Now her red bra flew right into the pool to everyone’s delight. Tyrion growled and rushed towards her, grabbing the nearest towel on his way. When he said he wanted his starlets naked at his party, he did not mean it _that_ literally! And definitely not her.

“Sweetling!” Tyrion smiled mischievously, reaching with his hands for her legs. Being a dwarf had its drawbacks precisely in moments like that one. “Come down darling and give the birthday boy a kiss!” He had to make it seem like he enjoyed her little show as much as the others did. The last thing he wanted was to humiliate his protégée in front of friends and rivals. Daenerys giggled and let herself down on her knees, ready to lean over the edge of the table and kiss Tyrion. “Ouuukey…” He squealed turning his face just in time for her soft lips to brush over his cheek. If she accepted to lock lips so easily with anyone who asked, she was in a way worse condition than he had anticipated. Delicately he got her off the table and wrapped the towel around her. “Your skin's so fair you're going to be as red as a lobster... come, let me put some sunscreen on you...”

Daenerys Drogo was a handful, but Tyrion believed in her talent with all his might. When on stage or in front of a camera she was mesmerising. She charmed her audience like no other. She was different! Special! Unique! Fire burnt in her veins making her glow as if she were a goddess. From a very tender age, the orphaned little girl had made a name on the Essosian scene, aided by her much older Dothraki husband. When he died after a street fight, she hoped for a new life and dreamt of a big break over the Narrow Sea. Tyrion had provided that break and now hers was, without a doubt, the most _en vogue_ name in the industry. Everyone wanted to see her fall. Except him - he wanted to see her rise!

Tyrion’s eyes scanned the surroundings looking for Dany’s bodyguard. “Did you hear me sing?” She asked all too happy.

“Absolutely! You were perfection! Is there anything you cannot do?” He smiled at her with the indulgence of a proud brother. Unbidden, Jaime's words echoed in his mind.

_I don’t want to be there..._

Tyrion spotted Grey Worm by the glass doors of his manor and directed Dany’s wobbly steps that way.

_...all those blonde shiny starlets... please understand..._

All those blonde shiny starlets... were in fact just the one. In his brother’s eyes, Daenerys had become everything Cersei was meant to be! She was beautiful and talented and had that certain something that made people want to bow their heads as if in the face of greatness. The fact that Tyrion had been the one to crown Daenerys as the queen of Westeros was particularly painful for Jaime. Daenerys was the usurper on Cercei's throne_ and Jaime hated her with a passion. Another reason for his soberness_ the mere thought of those two short-tempered stubborn mules meeting again. But alas, sometimes the most dangerous bullets were dodged unexpectedly. Gods bless the flying red bra!

“Grey Worm!” Tyrion said with a grin. “Dany needs a bit of a rest…”

“Heeey, I do not!” She laughed and tried to push him away, losing her balance. Grey Worm swiftly caught her before falling. “Oops... sorry... alright, maybe I need twenty minutes or so…”

“That’s my star!” Tyrion crossed his hands over his heart and bowed his head before her. “Take her to my master-bedroom and guard the door in case any of the horny dogs around here gets a funny idea.” The bodyguard nodded and politely placed a hand on Daenery’s back directing her towards the stairs.

Tyrion cared deeply for the girl and often turned a blind eye to her less flattering qualities. With the right guidance, he knew she would have a grandiose career. And he wanted to help her achieve greatness, he wanted to help her blossom to her full potential... reason why he tried his best to keep her out of harm's way until she matured enough to know better than taking off her bra.

Lost in his thoughts, Tyrion became unaware of the space around him. When Dany was no longer in sight, he turned swiftly on his heels, bumping straight into the longest pair of legs he had ever seen. Startled, he took two steps back and so did she.

“Oh, Seven Heavens! I am so_ so sorry, I did not hear you approaching. My deepest apologies, Ms Tarth.” Within a heartbeat, her cheeks turned redder than a ripe tomato and she bit her lower lip.

Brienne Tarth, by far the most famous and acclaimed author of Westeros_ technically, the literary equivalent of Daenerys Drogo_ was there at last, in his house! _Naked and all..._ his brother's voice rang in his head again_ and Tyrion looked her up and down. They had met several times before, thus her imposing stature, rather mismatched facial features and endless ocean blue gaze were no novelty to him. Everything else_ what she normally kept hidden beneath layers of clothes like the decent woman she was_ that he found quite fascinating. Her surprisingly fit body was covered entirely in various shades of brown freckles. And whatever sport she practised was brutal_ for a generous number of purple bruises also added colour to her long legs. Scars! She had a few of those too_ but the one that stood out was the one on_ 

“Happy…” Her shy tone ended his creepy mental analysis of her body and made him look her in the eyes. That caused the rest of the greeting to die in her throat. She turned even redder, swallowed hard and cleared her voice. For a writer, Tyrion remarked in amusement, she seemed to find her words with a rather great difficulty. The mandatory red bikini_ which matched her cheeks and neck and meagre chest so perfectly_ might have been at fault for it. He had smelt her rather well in their previous encounters. Hence, he knew she was a discreet person, who hated exposure and kept a low profile in spite of her fame. She definitely did not strike him as someone who felt comfortable to wear a two-piece bathing suit. Yet, there she was in his house wearing just that! Tyrion held back a grin of satisfaction. The sheer fact that she did follow the (un)dressing code to a T was an absolute indication of how much she wanted the deal to pass. “Happy birthday, Mr Lannister.” She eventually succeeded to say.

“Tyrion – please – and thank you so very much.” He said with a wide smile. “Can I call you Brienne?” She nodded, lips curving upwards in a rather charming half-smile. “I am absolutely delighted that you accepted to honour my birthday party with your presence.”

“The honour is mine...” She said politely and for whatever reason, his treacherous eyes decided to leave her face again.

They rested on that deep surgical scar that stood out. It was not as if he wanted to stare! It was yet another episode of 'being a dwarf had its drawbacks precisely in moments like that'. Her scar was right there!!! At the exact level of his eyes!!! How was he supposed to _not_ see it? Brienne must have felt his eyes on it, for she folded her arms over her abdomen. Tyrion’s eyes flung up within a heartbeat and he smiled as if nothing had happened_ desperately hoping she would think the same. She returned his smile, so he mentally exhaled in relief.

“Please, come outside and let me offer you a glass of champagne.” And so he did.

They were not alone for much longer. To Tyrion’s astonishment, Brienne rapidly became the darling of his party. Almost everyone sought her presence_ the DJ had to turn the volume down for many complained they could not hear what Brienne said to those drunkenly proclaiming their love and adoration for her. The redness never left her cheeks, if anything it became worse, but the initial discomfort faded away little by little.

Tyrion pursed his lips, observing the new type of spectacle. He had to admit to himself that he had grossly underestimated the _La Nymphe Europe_ effect! The hype around Brienne was insane! And it looked even more striking as his guests were not precisely the type of people one would expect to see so invested in a literary phenomenon. Which begged the question_ how desperate and obsessed were those who actually formed the bulk of his show's future audience? Frustration built up quickly. Why had he not read the damned books earlier? The show could have been at its third or fourth season already. He could have been fucking rich by now! Well... fucking _more_ rich by now! Father would have been_ not proud_ that would never happen unless he ceased being a dwarf and his mother came back to life_ but content! And thinking of Father, where in Seven Hells was Jaime? He was late!

“You know what I cannot_ simply cannot wrap my head around?” Oberyn Martell asked, prompting Tyrion to roll his eyes. Grand! Even the sex symbol of Westeros had an opinion on the books. “Prince Albert’s death! Who kills their main character at the end of the first volume?” But then again, Tyrion was just being a jerk -Martell was one of the most cultured actors he knew.

Taking in a deep breath, the birthday man reached for his first glass of alcohol for the day_ no wonder he was suddenly irascible and anxious.

Enough work thinking! The sun was slowly getting closer to the horizon of the Sunset Sea and all he had done at his grand party was to think of contracts, babysit his precious money-makers and get angry over missed business opportunities. Enough. Some time might have been lost, but the deal was as good as settled now. He wanted it. Brienne wanted it. Jaime wanted it! Everything was fine!

Brienne laughed at Martell and Tyrion looked at her with great interest. “That is the whole point – no one is safe! All my characters are human and, regardless of social status, humans can die! Again_ no one is safe_ there is no such thing as invulnerable, unbreakable, immortal. The Queen's husband can die of typhoid fever just as well as the poorest peasant. Does it matter whether you are an officer or the Tsar of a great Empire? It does not_ when a bomb lands beneath your carriage, you blow up!”

“You, Madame, are one ruthless woman!” Martell gasped pressing a hand on his chest and Brienne laughed even louder. Her laughter was so contagious, that Tyrion found himself smiling, slowly relaxing once again.

“I am not ruthless. I like to think of myself as realistic. I simply refuse to dress my characters in a thick plot armour.”

“Will you kill Victoria eventually?” Tyrion looked at the sweet-faced Roslin Frey and then back at the woman of the moment. Brienne's eyes softened and the smile that graced her full lips was so pure and warm that Tyrion felt a sudden wave of affection for the writer whose life's work he had underestimated for too long. Not only for Jaime, not only for money, not only for Tywin... slowly but surely, Tyrion began wishing to do that show for himself too.

“How do you envision Victoria’s end, Miss Frey?” Oh! And definitely for her!

“Just sitting there in a rocking chair… with her slippers on, 90 years old, just slowly falling asleep with her children and grandchildren around her, thinking of Albert and how they would soon be together again…” Roslin said all dreamy-eyed and Brienne chuckled with parental indulgence.

“I will consider it…”

Tyrion slipped away discretely, looking for his phone. His brother should have been there to join those conversations. Where was he? Tyrion entered the manor and started dialling the number when_

“Tyrion!” An enthusiastic voice startled him.

“Bloody time! I thought you have bailed on me – again!”

“No... I was just too nervous about meeting her so I kept on finding excuses to delay the moment...”

“Fierce lion you are!” Tyrion snarled. “I will go to bring her here, for you to meet her in a calmer environment... Quite frankly, out there, she is surrounded by sharks asking for spoilers. Apparently everyone else in the industry was a fan before me!”

“Told you!” Jaime laughed. Tyrion rolled his eyes in fake annoyance and went back outside.

“Brienne…” He smiled turning everyone’s attention to him. “Allow me to save you from the horror of being tortured and suffocated.”

She chuckled softly, the deep blush never leaving her freckled skin. “Oh, but I am none of those things. Everyone is so incredibly kind, that my heart is ready to burst of emotion.”

“It makes me so happy to hear this... I will not keep you away for long, I just want to introduce you to the most ardent of your fans – my brother.”

“Oh, sure! I would love to...” Brienne said enthusiastically, before politely excusing herself to those in her company. “I did not know you had a brother." She added with a grain of curiosity in her tone, while they walked towards the manor. "I always thought you were an only child...”

Tyrion smiled sadly. “Father knew all too well of the dangers lurking in the shadows of the film industry. So he kept us away from the spotlight... very easy thing to do when you lock your children away in boarding schools in Gods forgotten places. He told us we would be allowed to make our claim to fame and exploit the family business only after the age of twenty. I did just that, ever the compliant child... but my brother, well, he wished no part in the family business. He chose to keep a low profile. Now he is lecturing on creative writing and Westerosi literature at Lannisport University...” Tyrion refrained from disclosing there had also been a sister. The mere mentioning of Cersei when Jaime was around felt like a bad omen.

His brother jumped up from the sofa upon hearing their steps getting nearer. His smile was wider than life itself and that made Tyrion's heart skip beats. In several large steps, Jaime was in front of them, sporting all the enthusiasm of an hyperactive Labrador puppy.

“Hello! I am Jaime Lannister! It is such an honour to finally meet you!” His brother extended his hand all too eager to shake hers. She did not move. Tyrion looked at her and frowned.

For the first time since she had reached his party, the redness of her cheeks was no longer there. Brienne turned white as a ghost, staring at Jaime with her enormous blue eyes suddenly three times bigger.

“We’ve met…” She gasped in shock.

“I…” Jaime looked at her with a deepening frown. Then he shook his head categorically. “I am sure we have not. I have been a fan of yours for at least eight years… I would have remembered meeting you!”

“We have met! We have... Gods... oh, Gods...” Brienne breathed in and out, pressing a hand on her chest. “This is not happening... Oh, Heavens... I need to go.” And before either of them could say something, Brienne walked past them.

“Wait!” The brothers exclaimed in unison.

“What about the contracts? We’re waiting for your lawyer to sign them!”

“Yah, that’s not going to happen!” Brienne said nervously. "I changed my mind!" 

Tyrion gasped as if someone had just punched him in the gut. "Jaime!" He growled, shooting his brother a deadly look.

“Wait wait wait!” Jaime rushed to her and caught her wrist. Brienne pulled away as burnt. Jaime held his breath and they both stepped backwards, deepening the distance between them. She shook her head, looking absolutely distraught. As her eyes filled with tears, Brienne Tarth spun on her heels and all but ran towards the main entrance.

“At least tell me when we met…” Jaime begged while she was still in sight.

“Meereen! Nearly 17 years ago!” And just like that she was gone.

“Fuck! Fuck no!” The two of them covered their faces at the exact same time. Jaime growled like a hurt animal. Tyrion clenched his teeth, rubbing his palms over his face like a madman.

He could not lose _La Nymphe_ because of Jaime's damned Essos year!

Taking his phone out, Tyrion texted with quick fingers: **_Essos year alert. Jaime Brienne Tarth Meereen. Dig dirt asap. No budget limit. It glitched deal. Fix it. _**

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Any idea about how that 'forgotten first meeting' might have gone?_   
  
_Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter. Xx_


	3. TYRION III - Top or bottom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bronn delivered on his boss's request to 'dig dirt' on Brienne and Jaime's first meeting in Meereen. Tyrion is conflicted about what he should do with what he knows..._   
  
_ **Happy reading!** _   
_ **Xx** _

++++++++++++++++++++

Tyrion was leaning on the car bonnet with his legs crossed. The sun was up high, showering the capital in its end of summer rays. Through his dark shades, he took in the surroundings, while sipping from his large cup of takeaway latte in silence. Even the parking lot looked idyllic in this posh part of the city_ most probably due to the expensive cars lined up one beside another.

“You’re loud…” His henchman accused and, for the split of a second, Tyrion was startled. Lost in his thoughts, he had completely forgotten Bronn was leaning on the bonnet with him.

“I said no word…” When he had texted Bronn – by his official title the CSO of Lions&Lions Entertainment Inc. – with his latest dirty job, Tyrion did not know what outcome to expect. The possibilities were rather countless when it came to Jaime’s year in Essos. But _this_, Tyrion thought eyeing the building in front of him, _this_ was rather unexp_ He paused and lifted his shoulders to himself. On one hand, it was rather unexpected, but on the other_ was it really?

“For fook’s sake! Shut it! You’re loud thinking which is so much worse. Just speak your bloody mind!”

Tyrion looked at Bronn and pursed his lips. “I’m trying to process it all…”

He remembered the evening their father had asked them in his office as if it happened yesterday. _I wanted to let you know there is no hope left for Cersei and we are letting her go tomorrow morning. That’s all. _That was by no means all. Jaime exploded, banging his fist on his father’s desk, swearing, threatening, cursing, blaming. For nearly five minutes, Tywin let it happen without even battering an eyelash. Then he got bored and pressed the button beneath his desk. His bodyguard, whom they called the Mountain, appeared out of thin air and dragged Jaime out of there by his shirt's collar.

“And how’s that going for you?” The henchman laughed, a hint of enjoyment noticeable in his tone.

Only one week and a half had passed since his birthday party. Bronn had phoned him with the news the previous afternoon and Tyrion did the only thing there was to do_ he called his pilot to fly him over to King’s Landing as soon as possible.

“Not going at all. I cannot decide whether this is the most problematic or, on the contrary, the least problematic of the shits he’s done in Essos_”

“_that we know of so far.” Bronn added sipping from his own coffee.

“That we know of so far.” Tyrion nodded matter-of-factly. “Well, what do you think? After all, you’re the one who’s been cleaning up his mess and covering his tracks for nearly two decades. Top or bottom of the shit list?”

They were allowed to say their goodbyes to Cersei, but only with the Mountain by the door. Unlike the previous night, Jaime kept very calm_ he did not even shed a single tear as he kissed his twin’s forehead. _I need a walk, see you at home…_ His father nodded, rather pleased of his son’s public behaviour. _Can I join you?_ He remembered asking. _I want to be alone, Tyrion… see you at home later._ Then he vanished off the face of the planet.

The hours turned into days, the days into weeks, the weeks into months_ Jaime never returned from his walk. Tywin became so bitter he swore he would not move a single finger to get Jaime back and_ to his utter desperation and heartbreak_ Tyrion knew his father would do just that.

“Tricky question.” Bronn clapped his tongue. “Top or bottom of the shit list from a financial standpoint? The level of potential damage on the Lannister reputation? Or the level of impact on Lions&Lions? Oh, and there’s also the 'how likely is your brother to plunge his motor off the cliffs and into the Sunset Sea if he finds out' emotional layer...”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ve sorted everything in neat categories… how thoughtful!”

He had never celebrated his 18th birthday, for it happened several months after Cersei died and Jaime left. He was all alone. When Jaime was not there to put his foot down, no one cared for the dwarf of the family_ his father less than all other aunts, uncles and cousins. He had no friends of his own. He had no one. But, he had money at last! 18 meant that Tyrion could access his trust fund_ which he used with no reservation to find his brother.

“What can I say – whenever I do not cover up your family’s countless illegalities, I categorise them_ you know, should it come a day when I will be bored of working _for _you and decide to go _against_.” Bronn winked, turning his attention to the coffee.

Tyrion only burst into laughter. “You _are_ one of my family’s fucking illegalities! That is the beauty of our heartfelt friendship. You send us to the Cells, you come with us.”

In the beginning, he had hired 63 private investigators to look for Jaime. One after the other, they all gave up. Not eager to admit defeat, Tyrion turned to an illegal bounty hunter_ whom he paid double the sum he had spent on the previous 63 investigators combined. If Bronn cared to know, from a “financial standpoint”, _he_ was the most expensive outcome of Jaime’s Essos year! 17 years later, they were still working together and, in spite of not looking it at all, the man had an insanely expensive taste. But Bronn had done the job against all odds, he did find Jaime_ more dead than alive, wasting away in some Gods forgotten ghetto in Yin, indulging in severe abuses of exotic substances that were keeping his mind too foggy to remember his sweet sister's death_ and everything else he was doing, for that matter. His brother would have not survived his self-destructive behaviour for much longer. Bronn saved Jaime's life and, for that alone, he deserved to live a lavished life on Lannister money for the rest of his days.

“Aren’t you quite the smart ass?” Bronn snarled, shaking his head.

“Oh, I sure am! That’s why I take care of everyone and everything.” They were friends by now_ best friends. In spite of his foul mouth, Tyrion knew Bronn would never betray him. The henchman patted him twice on the shoulder and threw him a sympathetic look as if wanting to say_ _and I take care of you, half-man._ Tyrion just sipped from his coffee. “So, come on – top or bottom?”

“Depends on the woman, really. If she’s got good riding skills, then definitely bottom.” Tyrion laughed, preparing a good comeback when a loud motorbike entered the parking lot claiming their attention. “Speaking of good riding skills…” Bronn lifted an eyebrow when the motor stopped mere meters away from their car, on the empty parking spot next to them. The rider took his helmet off and shook his head full of dark curls to settle them back into their place.

“I know him…” Tyrion said squeezing his eyes beneath the dark shades. “He looks too familiar, but where from…” The curly brunet was a young man, a teen really, dressed in black from head to toes. He was not very tall, but he had been graced with a pretty face, large dark eyes and plump lips_ all making him look like a man doll. The shy beginning of a beard and moustache only added to his charm. It was no wonder five girls surrounded him before he even got the chance to put his helmet down. 

“Night’s Watch University_” Bronn pointed subtly to the embroidery on the leather jacket. “That shit’s the most elitist place in the whole country. And in case it escaped your notice, _this__” The man tilted his head towards the building whose entrance they’d been eagerly eyeing for two long hours. “__this_ is the most expensive private high school in King’s Landing. You know the boy from your circle of rich people, dumbass.”

“No.” Tyrion shook his head, still intrigued. “I do not know him personally, he’s not the son of anyone in _our_ circle. I wonder if he’s a_”

“Targaryen!” A seductive voice shouted and all heads turned that way. Tyrion gasped, his hand moving as if on a cue to his glasses. He lifted the shades over his hair, revealing a pair of goggled eyes.

“Fuck... me...” Tyrion whispered mouth dropping.

A tall athletic teen was making his way down the pathway linking the school’s building and the parking lot. Tyrion stood from the car’s bonnet and took two steps towards him, only to be stopped by Bronn placing a strong hand on his shoulder, hissing a low _‘don’t’_.

“Do your lady friends know that you are gay?” The young man moved like a feline. His green eyes sparkled in the summer light, while the blonde locks waving down to his waistline reflected the sun’s rays. The rider rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly with a growl. “_and taken!” The blond teen stopped three feet away, placed both hands on his hips, striking an annoyed pose, before tilting his head and pursing his lips in a dangerous fashion. The brunet teen might have been pretty as a man-doll, but the blond one looked like a sculpted God.

“Tarth, I swear on all Seven Heavens that the Gods couldn’t have fashioned a more jealous and arrogant man even if they tried!”

A devilishly charming smile curved the lips of the newcomer and the brunet melted under his gaze. “Ladies, shuu!” A dismissive wave of _Tarth's_ left hand was all it took for the girls to start scattering away.

“I am sorry he’s so rude!” The brunet chuckled apologetically, but wasted no time in closing the gap between him and the object of his affection. “I’ve missed you so…” He whispered as the taller teen placed his arms on top of his leather dressed shoulders. Rhaegar’s son wrapped his boyfriend in a tight embrace and got ever so slightly on his tiptoes to reach him better. Their lips locked into a tender kiss. When they broke away, the blond boy placed a hand on the brunet’s face, caressing his cheek.

“How’s Uni’ been treating you, my love?”

“Not ideally. The Wall’s a cold place.”

“Aegon, for you, even Dorne should be a cold place when I am not around.” The blond said matter-of-factly, moving a step away in order to tie his long hair in a low ponytail.

“What in all the Seven Hells I’m seeing in you, it’s just beyond me.” Aegon Targaryen grabbed the spare helmet and handed it to his boyfriend. “Put it on, spawn of the damned Stranger! Father’s waiting for us to lunch with him.”

Instinctively, the blond man grimaced in pure disgust and growled lowly in his throat.

“Stop it, Albert! How many times – my father does not hate you, ok?! You just remind him of someone he’s known a long long time ago.”

“Can I phone my mother to come with us? She scares the hells out of your dad.”

“Brienne scares the hells out of anyone who as much as dares to frown in your direction. She is the best woman I know, but man’, her intense mama-bear'ness is entirely the reason why you are such a spoilt brat!” They both laughed as if that was not even a statement up for question. “Hop on, _beauty!_ Or we'll be late.” They both put their helmets on.

Tyrion bit his lips and held his breath, while the wheels turned inside his head. Soon after Cersei’s accident, the Lannisters learnt that Rhaegar had been cheating on her with an underage Lyanna Stark for quite a few months. The two lovers had all the intentions of keeping the affair under wraps at least until Lyanna came of age_ and even a while after. The Lannister-Targaryen marriage was to happen, but marriages often fell apart. It was not supposed to be a complicated detour, but Lyanna became pregnant. Between her reputation and Cersei’s, Rhaegar did not think twice.

“Well, that would be your nephew, Albert Tarth. Do you still need that DNA test?” Bronn laughed, as the motorbike left the parking lot.

“I think the one who needs a DNA test is Brienne... I swear that Jaime made that one entirely by himself. Everything about that kid, Bronn_ everything!_ the way he looks, the way he moves, the way he acts, his voice…” Tyrion’s eyes began sparkling in pearly drops. “That’s my brother, Bronn! That kid _is_ my brother before Cersei died!” Tyrion put his shades back on to hide his eyes. “And his sweetheart... well, he's the reason why Cersei died.”

“Blimey!” Bronn exclaimed looking at Tyrion with a deep frown. “Top or bottom of shit list? Well... guess this just moved to the top of ‘how likely is your brother to plunge his motor off the cliffs and into the Sunset Sea if he finds out’ category.”

“It’s not a bloody joke, Bronn!” Tyrion hissed. “Come on. Let’s go to the airport and straight back to Lannisport. I need to see Jaime.”

Bronn frowned. “Jaime?”

Tyrion walked to the nearest litterbin to throw his paper cup. “Yes, I need to tell him about this. I need to talk to him in person.”

Bronn positioned himself between his boss-friend and the car’s door. “You need to talk to Tarth first!”

“Why?” Tyrion frowned.

“Cause’ that’s the decent thing to do, you twat! You’re gonna disrupt their whole lives_”

“Since when do _you_ care about the decent thing to do?” Tyrion scoffed.

“I’ve no clue who sired me. And, I'm telling you, that kid might not be interested_ absolutely at all_ in having Jaime shoved down his throat!”

“I do not fucking care what the kid wants! I care only about my brother! Jaime has a right to know!”

“Does he?” Bronn frowned threateningly. “Just like he knows of his other adventures in Essos? Of crippling that Bran kid? Or perhaps how those mad Dothraki pawn-brokers cut off that dude’s right hand because your brother slipped the stolen gold in his pocket and hid away? Or maybe he should know he’s strangled a man and stabbed another in the back. Jaime has a right to know it all… doesn’t he now?”

Tyrion clenched his teeth and kicked the car’s wheel in anger. He hated it when Bronn was right. “Move fucking aside from my door. We will stay a couple more days in King’s Landing and I will try to get Brienne Tarth to lunch with me tomorrow. Happy now?” The henchman nodded, opening the door for his boss. Tyrion climbed in the passenger’s seat.

As Bronn started the engine and put the car on reverse gear to leave their parking spot, Tyrion looked at him with a deadly stare.

“And just to be clear_ Jaime will know of the crimes he’s committed because of Cersei only over my dead body.” 

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Introducing: **Golden-teen-lion Lannister-Tarth**._   
  
_Who's guessed correctly on the clues given in the previous chapter? And what are your thoughts on the recent developments of this story?_   
  
_Looking forward to reading your comments. Xx_


	4. TYRION IV - Emerald Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tyrion and Brienne meet... and their talk is all ups and downs._   
  
_ **Happy reading!** _   
_ **Xx** _

++++++++++++++++++++

To his great surprise, Tyrion did not have to insist on Brienne meeting him. When he phoned her, she simply agreed. Straight away. Not to lunch, though_ but they were to have coffee together. Bad or good, it was a start.

Brienne had been the one to suggest the café_ _Emerald Gold__ located on one of those hidden, narrow lanes atop Visenya’s Hill. Anxious not to mess up his one chance at getting into the good graces of his nephew’s mother_ _Gods how that sounded!__ Tyrion arrived there more than fifteen minutes prior to the agreed time.

His taxi dropped him on the Street of the Sisters and he had to make his way through the maze of poorly lit pathways, which were known to set the bounds of the so-called _writers’ den_. There was nothing but cafés to his left, cafés to his right_ an antique shop here, a second-hand bookstore there. Sitting indoors or outdoors, everyone had a cup of half drank coffee beside their laptops, their jotters, their opened books. Writing, reading, making notes. Oh, and all those unmistakable literature students parading everywhere around him_ after all, the Faculty of Humanities of King’s Landing University was right there next to the Sept of Baelor. Tyrion smiled with the corner of his mouth_ Tarth had made him enter her territory. _Nicely played._

Brienne’s café of choice gave him pause. He stopped in front of it and stared at_ and through_ the wall made entirely out of glass. That was rather unusual considering how all the buildings in the neighbourhood dated back to the monarchical period. It was a bold architectural change_ for sure incredibly expensive, needing all sorts of authorisations and permits. _Decadent_, the word rang loudly in Tyrion’s mind. Quite frankly, an oddity… not vintage, not modern, mismatched. Out of place and not belonging to the world around it_

_Just like her…_ Tyrion’s eyes rested on the large figure with straw blonde hair sitting at a round table in the far right corner of the café. She seemed to have been there for a while already_ if he were to judge by the two cups of coffee in front of her.

He tilted his head and strove to observe her through the windows. Brienne Tarth, the renowned author of _La Nymphe Europe _with a laptop in front of her, a couple of jotters opened nearby and many sheets of paper spread everywhere_ Oh, she was furiously typing! Completely immersed in her work, minding the real world no business while most likely dwelling somewhere in her beautiful Europe. Whereabouts? France? Russia? Oh… Scotland! _No__ Tyrion wrinkled his nose in disagreement. Brienne’s expressive face gave away a symphony of emotions. The scene she was writing seemed to be a heated one_ dramatic maybe_ difficult? Germany! Was she murdering someone as he watched? It surely looked like it. He gasped_ _not Bismarck! _Her jaws were clenched and, every so often, she pursed her lips dangerously, frowning, while slowly shaking her head left and right. Her fingers were at it viciously!

Tyrion stood there as the minutes flew by, having no desire to interrupt her creative process. He also had to admit that Brienne was fascinating to look at. There was just something about her_ maybe the energy she emanated_ that felt simply mesmerising! Not a beauty by far, quite the contrary_ her body was too masculine, her face too broad, her nose and mouth did not match the glory of her eyes_ yet she felt like a strong magnet. He felt drawn to her_ drawn to getting to know what went through her mind, what caused all those intense emotions to splash over her face! Drawn to making her talk to him, to get her undivided attention, to have her long dexterous fingers brush over his shoulder, or wrapped around his_

“Seven!” Tyrion cursed under his breath, eyes widening at how rapidly his trail of thoughts escalated. _Guess that’s how Jaime became a father…_

Tyrion cleared his throat and shook his head to push away his disgraceful thoughts. Just then, Brienne reached for her phone, looking at the lit screen and sighing. She let the flap of her laptop down and hurried to place the device in her bag, hastily collecting her notes and putting them away. Brienne’s head turned towards the windows and their eyes met. Tyrion faked a smile and, without thinking, lifted a hand to slowly wave at her. She frowned and he exhaled loudly_ _Who in their right mind waves?__ before letting his head fall down and hurrying towards the café’s entrance. 

While he walked towards her, Brienne’s eyes did not leave him_ yet she straightened her back and placed her hands on one of the coffee cups in front of her.

“Good afternoon. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me…” Tyrion stopped, for he knew not how to address her. Of course, they had settled for first names at his birthday party, but that was before_ well, before Jaime.

“I am no fool, Mr Lannister.” Tyrion smiled sadly_ so they were back on formal territory. “When I left your house, I knew very well that was not the last I would see of your family_ quite the contrary, it was but the beginning.” Brienne’s voice was calm and polite_ oh, so distantly polite. “The few business meetings we had did leave me the impression that you are not a man to take _no_ for an answer. I panicked when I saw your brother and my mouth got ahead of my brain… but let us be honest, Mr Lannister_ even without me panicking and divulging that I had a history with your brother, eventually, you would have gotten to the bottom of it, for what I have to sell is too important for you. I knew you would not let me leave in peace…” Tyrion held his breath at her words. Was that was she was thinking of him? “You are a lion… you are _The_ lion of Lions&Lions and those who work for you are nothing but the pray you feast on. You like to make us feel small, beneath you, used, toyed with_ I almost did not come to that party, seeing as I hated the dress code and felt utterly humiliated to go sign those contracts wearing a red bikini. But then, of course, I did remember who I was doing it for_ I did remember who wanted to see those books televised the most! And, Mr Lannister, there is no end to what I would do for him. I ran away as fast as I could to buy him some time, to let my son know what happened, to give him the chance to think it through and make a decision of his own before you eventually contacted us... because I never entertained the illusion you would not come after us.”

Tyrion opened his mouth, wanting to say something_ then closed it again, swallowing hard. He felt like suffocating under her unfair accusations. She did not know him! How dared she villainize him as such? All he had ever wanted was to help people! He helped all those working for him_ he most certainly did not use them to enhance his own richness_ well, he did do that! But not in a despicable unethical manner like his father before him.

“Ms Tarth…” Tyrion sighed. “May I, please?” He whispered, indicating to the chair opposite her. Brienne nodded, but her eyes drifted to the young pregnant woman approaching.

“Can I bring you anything, sir?” She asked, hand softly place on her baby bump. Offering her a kind smile, Tyrion ordered a double Americano. “Want another gingerbread cappuccino, Brie?”

Brienne looked at the young woman and her beautiful blue eyes softened at once, lips curving upwards delicately. “Yes, please. That would be lovely, Edith dear.” Just as he had guessed, Brienne was a regular of the café. Turning on her heels to leave with the order, Edith threw him a cold warning smile, letting him know how unwelcomed he truly was there.

“Ms Tarth, I…” Tyrion cleared his voice, trying to maintain his composure.

“Have you told your brother yet?” Despite her efforts to sound in control, Brienne wrapped her fingers tightly around the nearly empty coffee cup. Her short fingernails threatened to shatter, or in the least scratch the china. She was scared_ terrified. Could he blame her, really, for thinking the worst of him_ of them? He knew nothing of what had truly happened all those years in Meereen. He knew nothing of her private life afterwards.

Tyrion shook his head very softly. “No, I have not, Ms Tarth…” Her astonishing eyes widened with renewed hope and she gasped ever so slightly. Tyrion looked down, thankful that Bronn had stopped him from making a terrible mistake. Going to Jaime behind Brienne’s back, as he had intended, would have ultimately ruined his brother’s chance at even getting the opportunity to get close to his son. “I wanted to tell him_ I still really want to, but I wished to speak to you first.”

“I appreciate that_ I truly do…” Brienne sighed, letting go of the cup and pressing her palms together, as if in a plea. “I will be direct and honest to you_ just don’t.”

“I do not understand…” The words came out barely louder than a painful whisper.

“You do! Do not tell your brother, Mr Lannister. My son does not want to hear of him, even less to meet him.” Tyrion held his breath. “Albert is very happy with the life we have. We do not wish it to change. He has never missed your brother’s presence_ not a single day along the years! He has his dearest grandpa’ as a father figure and that is more than enough for him. We do not need anything your family has to_” Brienne smiled all of a sudden and Tyrion frowned. A hand appeared in front of him, placing a coffee cup down on the table. Edith was back. Tyrion faked his own smile, while the young woman took the empty cups from their table before slowly walking away.

“Ms Tarth, my brother…”

“Mr Lannister, please_ you do not know me enough, but I would do anything_ anything at all_ for my son.” _Her intense mama-bear’ness is entirely the reason why you are such a spoilt brat!_ Aegon Targaryen’s words rang loud in his head. “Trust me_ had Albert wished differently, you would have not been the one to contact me. It would have been the other way round. This is not about me or your brother! This is only about _my son_!” Tyrion wished he had not noticed her chin trembling, but she needed two seconds too long to clench her teeth and swallow her tears away. He had to look down, conflicted at how badly he felt like chickening out.

“My… my brother has a right to know, Ms Tarth.” He managed to mouth.

“If you care for your brother as much as you seem to care, spare him the heartbreak. I know my son_ he is stubborn and can be awfully cruel when he wants to. It would not be a happy affair.” Before Tyrion could think of something to say, Brienne straightened her back and looked him deep into the eyes. “In the light of the new events, I have reconsidered my standpoint in what our deal is concerned.” Tyrion frowned, tilting his head unable to realise whether he had heard her correctly. “I will sign the contracts. I will even renounce all of my demands. Will not be involved in anything that has to do with the TV series. You and Lions&Lions will have a free hand in all creative and executive decisions. _La Nymphe Europe _is yours.”

Tyrion felt his heart shrinking in his chest, while his stomach turned to knots. “Brienne... Ms Tarth, please, be sensible. I did not come here to extort a deal from you…”

“You have come for something far worse, Mr Lannister. You’ve come for my son!” And this time a tear escaped her lashes rolling down her pale cheeks.

“I have come to learn _about _your son!” He corrected her on the most considerate tone he could possibly use. “Your son is a grown lad! We will not snatch him away from you, Brienne! We are not going to drag you in any custody battles. What would be the point of it? I am not an absurd man and I most definitely do not want to hurt your son… I am not the Imp I pretend to be! I do not seek to make you feel small, or beneath me_ nor do I want to use this situation to get my contracts signed! All I want_ all I ever wanted_ was to take care of my family and do right by it.” Tyrion looked at her, their gazes locking into each other and he was sure her heart was pounding just as violently as his was. “Do you…” He had no idea how to put in words what he wanted to ask, for he dreaded the answer too much. “Do you hate Jaime?”

Tyrion held his breath waiting for her reply. With his brother’s track record in Essos, Brienne’s panicked reaction at seeing him and Albert’s categorical refuse to meet his father_ well, rape was not as out of the question as Tyrion desperately wanted it to be. Yet, he could not ask her directly without putting Jaime in a bad light.

Brienne reached for her coffee, hands _almost_ trembling_ for she was quite good at controlling her emotions. “No, I do not hate him…” She shook her head sipping from her cappuccino and Tyrion felt the world getting lighter around him. “We should have been more careful_ that is true, but I do not blame him. I do not think it was solely his fault. It takes two to tango.” Biting his lower lip to suppress a smile of relief, Tyrion too reached for his coffee. 

“Can I ask how it came to happen… you and my brother?” He ventured in spite of feeling it might be a bit too bold.

“Entirely not a worth-remembering story, as your brother seems to agree.” _Ah!_ Tyrion’s brows arched in spite of himself. Thus, there was a dose of bitterness at Jaime not remembering her. Maybe their sexual encounter had been great. Maybe she wanted more and was hurt he did not remember. Maybe there was a chance that she liked Jaime_ deep, deep down_ and she needed to be helped to realise it_ Alas, it was worth a try!

“Your son, Albert_ that’s a beautiful name, very _European__” She blushed, biting away a smile. “Would you say he is a loyal man who loves unconditionally, who would do anything for those he cares deeply about?”

Brienne nodded. “Yes, he is exactly like that… he can sometimes go to extreme lengths out of love. He is very short-tempered, he has zero self-control when he gets triggered, but has a heart of gold.”

“Just like his father…” Tyrion smiled. “From the little you have mentioned about Albert_” _and the little I have seen with my own eyes, although admitting to having stalked your son in school is probably not the sanest thing to let slip__ “I strongly feel you would be able to understand my brother quite well, quite deeply, if only you were eager to open up just a little bit. Jaime is a good man_ the best I know. I get that you do not want to tell me your side of the story_ and I will not push you in any way_ but can I tell you a little of his? Please?”

“I thought he did not remember…” Brienne frowned.

Tyrion shook his head slightly. “He does not remember how you two met, but there is a reason for it_ please_ I will make it short.” She reached for her cup nodding softly and he felt his heart filling with hope. With some divine help, maybe he was going to solve the entire mess! “Thank you… it will not be a nice story, but you should know about it. The other week, at my birthday, I did not tell you the entire truth when you confessed you thought I was an only child.”

Cersei was without a doubt a person for whom Tyrion had harboured very few positive feelings. Their relationship was a vicious one, for Cersei hated him with a passion for the simple fact that he had been born. They never got along in the slightest, reason why the little brother had never missed her since she died_ quite the contrary, he had grown to despise her more for how Jaime had lost himself after her death. Yet, there had never been a better time to use the _Cersei card_ to obtain much-needed sympathy. Hence, he did use it_ use _her _and her memory_ shamelessly! After all, in spite of Jaime being too blinded by his love to ever realise it, she had done just that_ used him shamelessly_ for years. Cersei had been a master manipulator. But alas, she had been his twin and nothing will change Jaime’s mind about her now_ she died before the veil had a chance to be lifted and thus she would forever remain perfect and untainted in Jaime's eyes. And, for his brother’s sake, Brienne would get to know Cersei in the best of lights as well.

“There was a sister_ Cersei.” As Brienne’s eyes widened, his became misty with faux tears. “Nineteen years ago she had a motorcycle accident… losing her was hard for us all, but it was particularly heart-breaking and life-changing for Jaime_ they were twins.”

Brienne swallowed hard. She looked like she would have wanted to say something, but the words would not leave her mouth. After a short moment of silence, Tyrion resumed his story.

“They shared a bond unlike anything I have ever seen_ a bond I was often quite jealous of. They were inseparable. They acted as a unit. They even looked so much alike_ at prom, in high school, they even switched places_ and no one noticed! Jaime ended up being elected prom Queen_ I think he still has the tiara. Alas, it was a masquerade and they had their faces slightly covered_ and Cersei had her rather unethical reasons for suggesting the swap… but my point is_ there was no end to what Jaime would do for Cersei.” It hurt him to say that aloud, particularly in the light of what he ended up doing after her death_ things he would obviously not mention to Brienne. “After the accident, Jaime did not believe Cersei was lost. He broke up with his girlfriend, dropped out of University without telling anyone and moved to King’s Landing. He went into nursing school for two whole months, until father got the wind of it and urged him to quit. He did_ father has his ways_ but Jaime spent two years in hospital with our sister. He wrote what never came to become his debut novel by Cersei’s side. We were worried about him_ he was becoming more and more delusional, imagining conversations with Cersei, taking ‘her notes’ on what he was reading and editing in accordance to her will. Father wanted the madness to end_ but, you see, father is not the smoothest person. So one night he simply called us to his office and told us he would pull the plug on Cersei_ out of the blue.”

Brienne gasped loudly, pressing one hand on her mouth and one on her heart. There it was! The sympathy he wanted to milk. “Jaime was devastated with grief…” A couple of tears fell down Tyrion’s bearded cheeks and he promptly wiped them away. “He accused father of murdering Cersei and just disappeared_ he ran off and I do not believe he ever wanted to return. He went to Essos, where I know he_ overindulged in exotic substances to forget the horrible two years he had been through... to forget his dear sister had died_ and quite frankly forget he did. Whatever he took messed his memories quite badly and he has no recollection of nearly anything that happened that year_ he was a broken man, which I know is no excuse for sleeping with you and leaving you… but it is an explanation and I feel that you deserve it.”

“He did not…” Brienne whispered on a low voice and Tyrion frowned. “_leave. He did not leave me. I did_ That night was a mistake, a betrayal of everything I am and the values I have and, when the high of the act was gone, I could not cope with what had happened_ so I just left him sleeping. I never even knew his name_” Tyrion’s eyes widened and he was quite ashamed to notice his jaw had dropped. She looked at him and sighed loudly. “I was there because I was taking a gap year in Meereen. My senior year had been a humiliating nightmare and I knew not what I wanted to do with my life_ I knew what I _did not_ want and that was to go into law school as my father had planned all along. Unlike your brother, I was never the prom Queen_ I was, however, the freak who had been used for two years as a tool by_ Albert?” Brienne stood up at once and Tyrion turned his head around.

The tall teen made his way towards their table, keeping a casual smile on his face. “Hey, Ma’ dear.” He leaned in to press a kiss on Brienne’s cheek. “I was in the neighbourhood and_ well, you did say I could come if I felt like it, or if I changed my mind_ I did neither. However, I did feel like checking on you_” In spite of his words being addressed to his mother, the boy’s emerald eyes drifted towards Tyrion, giving away his real motives. _Curiosity killed the cat__ a Lannister through and through.

“Albert, this is Tyrion Lannister. He is your father’s younger brother.” Unsurprisingly, Brienne too knew, all too well, why her son had dropped by.

Promptly, Tyrion stood from his chair and green met green. For the first time, he had the chance to look into his nephew’s eyes and his heart threatened to burst out of his chest of excitement. Swallowing hard, Tyrion extended a slightly shaking hand. As if on a cue, the teen put both his hands deep into his pockets and Tyrion let his fall down. Hope fading just as quickly as it appeared.

“Ahm_ no, I am not staying. Aegon is waiting for me by the Sept. I just wanted to make sure that my mother is not cornered or anything.” His words came out cold, but his chin trembled in emotion. With the corner of his eye, Tyrion saw Brienne frowning while letting out a breath none of the _lions_ noticed she had been keeping.

“Son, please tell me you did not refuse to meet your father because of me…” Her voice was weak, as if hurt by a sudden realisation. “Al’ you cannot make such a crucial decision based on what you think I would want you to decide! When have we ever done that?”

Albert scoffed and touched her arm, caressing it up and down. “Don’t be ridiculous Ma’. I meant what I said_ I do not want our lives to change. It has always been just the two of us and grandpa. I do not need any more family than this_ particularly as I know just how hurtful it is when two parents resent each other. Why would I want to complicate our lives like that? I honestly came just to make sure you are fine and to tell you one more time that you do not have to sell _La Nymphe_ just to keep them away.” Tyrion let his head down. Stubborn and hurtful_ he sighed_ maybe the boy should have inherited some traits from the Tarths too, for his own good. 

“Al’, I do not resent your father, the way Aegon’s parents resent each other… I simply _do not know_ your father. It is a great difference…” Brienne looked at Tyrion and smiled, then back at her son. “Look, you know that all I had with your father were a couple of hours, but from what your uncle has just told me, he might actually be a really great man. Please_ sit for a coffee with us and listen to what Tyrion has to say_ you do not have to change your mind, just be polite for a bit.”

Albert sighed. “Alright, I will get a coffee. You kept on saying how wonderful this place is so I might as well check it for myself, since I am already here…”

Scared the boy might change his mind, Tyrion lifted his hand and waved to Edith to come to get another order. The three sat down in awkward silence just as the young woman approached their table.

“What can I bring y…” When her eyes met Albert’s, all colour left Edith’s face. “Jaime…”

Tyrion’s heart stopped and his eyes locked with Brienne’s. She stared back at him, panic washing over her face. Albert looked at them both and then back at the young woman who had just called him by his father’s name.

“Ahm… no, I am sorry.” The boy muttered.

“Albert…” Brienne forced a smile. “He is my son.”

“Ow, how wonderful to finally see him here!” Edith exclaimed looking at her for a split second then back at her son. Tyrion felt his blood turning cold, while worry clawed at his chest. He did not wish to think of her as a relic of Essos, but his mind went there unbidden! Where had Jaime met the young woman? Maybe she had been his student at University.

“Can I bring you some_” Her eyes met Albert’s once again and the words died in her throat. “I am sorry_ this is so inappropriate_ It’s just that you look so much like someone I knew what feels like a lifetime ago.” Edith took in a deep breath and exhaled for six long seconds, hand resting on her baby bump. “His name was Jaime. He saved my life in Vaes Dothrak when I was twelve and took care of me_ and I took care of him_ for almost a year. I owe him everything I am and everything I have... and your eyes are insanely like his.”

Tyrion looked at her as if unable to comprehend the words leaving her mouth. This woman had something good to say about Jaime’s time in Essos? Had she spent all that time with him? Did she know everything? He had to get the truth out of her! He had to send Bronn her way and soon!

“I am sorry if I creeped you out. Coffee’s on me, what can I bring you?”

“It’s quite alright, it was an honest mistake. Sounds like this Jaime I remind you of was quite a good man…” Albert smiled at her.

“He was the best, really. Broken and hurt, betrayed, lonely… but the kindest and most loving soul one could have the fortune to meet. I will name my son after him.” She smiled fully caressing her bump. “So what coffee should it be?”

“A gingerbread cappuccino would be great.” The young woman nodded and turned on her heels to leave. Albert placed his elbows on the table and let his head fall in his palms. “Ma’ I want to meet my father... sorry... I tried to fight it...”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Please let me know how you feel about it. Xx_


	5. TYRION V - A pride of lions, not a family...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I do not even know what to say about this chapter_ I feel like I need to give you all the heads up that it will be a massive rollercoaster._   
  
_I want to thank **JailynnW** so so so so so so so so much for the beautiful poster. It was such a surprise when she sent this picture to me, that I nearly swooooooooned. Btw, at some point, Jaime will say a TM quote of yours_ I am curious if you'll spot it._   
  
_**Enjoy reading** everyone and don't forget to let me know what you think of it._   
_ **Xx** _

  


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_Terrified_ did not even begin to describe how Tyrion felt while waiting for the elevator to his brother’s flat. Madness_ that’s what it all was! Pure and utter madness! Ever since he left King’s Landing a couple of days ago, Tyrion’s head had been consumed by chaos. _‘Jaime, so listen, a funny thing happened_ hilarious, really_ I flew to the capital and bumped into your son.’ _Tyrion growled into his throat. Ridiculousness of that sort had been echoing in his mind without pause.

And now, with a deafening _‘ting’_, the doors of the elevator opened in front of him, reducing his stomach to painful knots. Tyrion stepped inside and took in a deep breath before pressing the button for the twelfth floor.

_‘Jaime, my dear brother! I dug up some great news! As it turns out, you have a son!’_ Tyrion rested his forehead on the cold metal doors and felt a sudden urge of vomiting as the lift ascended.

He was exhausted. Sleep had decided to elude him as he struggled to find a way to put reality into words. _‘Jaime, so good to see you! How are you feeling? Good? I am happy to hear you are good… Good is perfect, for you know who else is good_ your son!’_ It was impossible. There was no safe way of breaking such news no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he rehearsed! Chances were his brother would be greatly hurt.

Tyrion exhaled as the elevator’s doors opened for him. He dragged his feet to Jaime’s door feeling all resemblance of courage leaving his small body. _‘Congratulations, Jaime! It’s a boy!’ _Oh, how his brother would have loved it_ Jaime would have loved to hear those words leaving the midwife’s mouth as he squeezed his partner’s hand, for he would have been there_ present for his son! He would be hurt_ so hurt to have missed it all.

“Fuck me.” Tyrion whispered under his breath, lifting a trembling hand to knock on Jaime’s door. He knocked three times before his brother opened with a wide smile gracing his perfect lips.

“Well, well, well_ if it isn’t my dear baby brother!” Tyrion looked him up and down_ and then up again_ eyes resting on his face. Gods, he was a beautiful man! Even with the thin wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, mouth, and forehead, Jaime looked infuriatingly attractive. His once golden locks were slowly turning a dirty shade of grey-blonde, but they were still rebelliously flirting their way down to the middle of his neck. Bristles covered his face just enough to leave the impression he was _effortlessly_ handsome_ which was in fact the truth. Jaime had not cared for looks in nearly two decades_ he had not cared for looks since he looked just like his son.

“Do come in before you change your mind.” Jaime joked, moving out of the way. “Imagine my surprise when you phoned me this morning to tell me how you’d love to pay me a visit in my humble home. I thought it through a lot and for the life of me I could not figure what the special occasion was…”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and stepped inside._ ‘I’ll tell you what the special occasion is: you are a father, yey!’ _The thought echoed loudly in his head, yet remained well sealed in there. “Does it need to be a special occasion for me to visit my brother?”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Jaime continued on the same highly amused tone. “It simply never happened before_ not even once in the nine years since I have the apartment have you visited me without it being a birthday of sorts, graduation, promotion, holiday… You always insist on meeting in the city or your manor.”

“You’re dressed. Are you leaving?” Tyrion hurried to change the subject, as he had no desire to admit Jaime was right. The truth was that he hated his brother’s apartment for it represented nothing but the very core of Jaime’s wasted away life.

“No, in fact I have just returned some twenty minutes ago. Hope you’re hungry.” Jaime turned with his back and walked towards the kitchen.

“Wait, what? You staying until such late hours at the University?” Tyrion frowned, looking around unsure of what to do next.

“Of course I’m not.” His brother shouted from the kitchen. “I had to see someone. Just make yourself at home. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Someone? Are you fucking Melara again?” Tyrion inquired rolling his eyes. Melara Hetherspoon had been Cersei’s best friend and Jaime’s first_ _only__ girlfriend. They had started dating at 15 and been on and off ever since. It went without saying that the younger brother did not_ by any means_ approve of her.

“Again? As I have never really stopped, shouldn’t it be _still_? But no, I wasn’t with her tonight.” Jaime never really loved her. Melara never really loved him. The catch was that they both loved Cersei more than anything else in the world. As none of them could have her, they settled for having each other. It was sick really.

Entering the living room, Tyrion threw himself on the sofa, then growled. “Have you ever considered a healthy relationship for a change?” _One where your partner does not think of your sister while fucking you and you don’t think of your sister while fucking your partner._

“I never understood why you dislike her so much_ and don’t say it’s because she slept with Cersei at prom, because that was nothing but a nasty rumour spread by crazy Lysa.” It was useless really to argue otherwise and Tyrion knew it. Jaime refused to as much as entertain the idea that his twin had in fact been a selfish deranged bitch who convinced him to swap places at prom solely for the purpose of her fucking his girlfriend. Which Cersei truly did! She needed to _experiment__ or so a 14 years old Tyrion overheard her saying to a sobbing heartbroken Melara_ _experiment _in order to wholeheartedly embrace the fact that she truly was a straight skank. Naturally, the realisation would have been as meaningful had she gone for any other girl. _But noooo__ Cersei had to betray her twin and emotionally crumble her best friend, because that was exactly the sort of shit Cersei did!

“Besides” Jaime continued in the same loud tone meant to be heard from the kitchen. “It’s not as if we would ever get married or anything serious. We’re just fucking when we’re lonely or when we need it. Yeah_ i’s a vicious circle, but Melara’s what I know! She’s what I’ve always known. She is the only woman I have ever been with! She is safe… she’s home, alright? I care for her and she cares for me. Love has never been in the cards for the two of us, separately or together, but we love sex_ nothing bad in it! The way I see it, my arrangement with Melara is much better than chasing meaningless one night stands. Honest to all Gods, Tyrion, I would never do that_ it might be your style, but it simply is not me. Plus,” A loud chuckle echoed from the kitchen. “I am too paranoid_ I wouldn’t want to catch some STD or, even worse, get a random stranger pregnant!”

Tyrion felt the air abandoning his lungs all of a sudden and he burst into heavy coughing, struggling hard to regain his breath. _‘Well isn’t this kick-you-in-the-crotch and spit-on-your-neck fantastic?’ _His heart pounded desperately in his chest, threatening to break the ribcage. What if Jaime cared to hear nothing of his son? Tyrion had not even considered the possibility. In his mind, his brother always seemed to break apart at the news, to suffer upon hearing of the lost time, of the missed opportunity of being a father. Jaime was fragile_ fragile in the sense bombs were! In his mind, his brother would struggle to collect himself, master his emotions, and run to meet his son. Yet, what if all his suppositions had been wrong?

“You ok?” Jaime shouted from the kitchen.

Tyrion’s eyes fell on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. “Yeah…” He coughed twice more. “A peanut went the wrong way.” He lied while reaching for the ball of assorted nuts. Stress snacking was one of Tyrion’s hobbies. What if he had regally fucked up? What would he say to Albert, to Brienne? They settled on the boy meeting his father during the school break for the Feast Day of Our Father Above_ in two weeks! Two weeks were supposed to give Tyrion enough time to break the news to Jaime. Two weeks were supposed to give Jaime enough time to come at terms with the news. Two weeks were supposed to give Brienne enough time to mentally prepare for a discussion with Jaime. What would he do if Jaime said no? 

“Don’t stuff yourself, there’s super cheap pizza in the oven!” Jaime scoffed.

“What the Seven Hells!” Tyrion exclaimed reaching for the remote to unmute the TV.

From the kitchen, Jaime burst into a satisfied fit of laughter. “That’s the spirit, bro’! I swear to Gods this is the cheapest thing you’ll ever eat in your entire life – I bought the pizzas from the sales of sales just to aggravate your snobbish ass!”

Jaime’s words did not reach Tyrion’s ears, for his entire attention turned towards the news. His brother mumbled something unintelligible from the kitchen, to which Tyrion replied with an apathetic _‘aham’_. Jaime laughed. Tyrion did not. No other words were exchanged before Jaime entered the room balancing two plates of pizza on his hands, while holding the rolled up bamboo tablemats underneath his chin.

“Here, this one’s yours.” Jaime said handing a plate to his brother. Tyrion made no move. “Come on, fancy pants, take it. You’re not going to die from some frozen pizza.” As if on autopilot, Tyrion reached for the plate, goggled eyes not leaving the TV. Jaime carefully laid the two mats on the glass coffee table before putting his plate atop one.

“The Court is reopening Aerys’s case in the light of new evidence…” Tyrion whispered hand still in mid-air, exactly where Jaime had handed him the plate. “That’s insane…”

“Nonsense.” Jaime said unbothered, turning on his heels to go back to the kitchen. “Nothing will change for Aerys.” Tyrion sighed, slowly letting his arm down to place the plate on the table.

“I am disturbed by your reaction, brother.” Jaime’s snorts came as reply from the kitchen. “I am serious. Aren’t you in the least annoyed that Viserys succeeded? The crazy cunt’s been trying to reopen his father’s case for years.”

Jaime entered the living room with an arched eyebrow and three sauce bottles, two in one hand and one in the other. “This one is incredibly spicy, this one is decently spicy_ and this one’s pretty tasteless and entirely useless_ just like Viserys!”

“I do not eat spicy food, as you well know, so I see myself forced to give Viserys a chance.” Tyrion smiled looking at the bottle of sweet sauce.

“Ever the man of charity, baby brother! Pretty sure no one except you has ever given Viserys a chance.” Jaime guffawed throwing himself on the sofa. Reaching for a piece of pizza, his emerald green eyes fixated on the TV. “Look at him! He is the epitome of incompetence. He paid an entire cohort of lawyers to build the appeal and now he is cocky enough to step in front of them all and put his neck on the line for something that will never happen. He has absolutely no idea what he just got himself into… This is going to be just another high profile fiasco for the damned Targaryens and I will enjoy every single second of it. Is the social media on fire yet?”

“Oh, hells yeah!” Tyrion shook his head scrolling down his phone. “There are over three hundred articles posted already and _#MadPresident_ is trending on Raven. Listen here, the King’s Landing Post starts off with_ quote_ _‘Will the so-called Mad President Aerys Targaryen be released after spending 18 years in prison’__ question mark. The Times is even better as they go with citing Viserys in caps lock at the top of their page_ quote_ _‘This is a grandiose victory of our legal system’_. Oh, look! Your favourite person in the whole world has also been asked for an opinion by Westeros Today. Fancy summary_ _Rhaegar Targaryen, President of NASCAR and CEO of Dragon Luxury Wheels refrains from commenting on the news regarding his father as he claims they had severed all their ties upon Aerys’s original conviction._ Oh, is he not the son of the year_ as per usual!”

“Rhaegar can bite me!” Jaime snarled chewing loudly on his pizza.

“He can, but he won’t.” Tyrion teased and Jaime growled a low _‘you can bite me too’_. “It does not stop here. Politics Daily was quick to snatch an interview from the number one moralist of Westeros_ quote_ _‘Asked upon leaving the headquarters of the Dornish Red Seven-Pointed Star, President Stark declared with a stern smile on his face that:’__ and now I’m quoting good boy Ned__ ‘I have complete fate that no mortal or divine power will allow a dangerous terrorist of the likes of Aerys Targaryen walk freely ever again.’ _Warms one’s heart.”

“It truly does…” Jaime nodded sarcastically. “Has Baratheon says anything funny yet?”

“He’s probably ravened some nonsense from his fancy Lys beach house_ lemme’ check.” Tyrion burst into laughter. “Oh, Seven…”

“Is it any good?” The older brother asked curiously, reaching for another slice of pizza.

Tyrion cleared his voice and tried to make himself look bigger while impersonating the man who had taken office straight after Aerys’s fall from power. _“That fucker’s never getting out. Where are the good old days of trial by combat? I’d ask to be allowed to hammer off his messed up brain.”_

“Gold.” Jamie laughed loudly.

The younger brother put the phone down on the table and reached for the bottle of sweet sauce. Looking at it intensely, Tyrion sighed. “Tasteless and useless… well, speaking of Viserys_ what if Aerys does get out, though?”

“He will not!” Jaime growled threateningly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tyrion. The man tried to blow up the Sept of Baelor and the main building of King’s Landing University in order to frame his political rival and secure a re-election. He is fucking mad and he will rot in jail!”

“It has been 18 years_ can I just point out that the Supreme Court agreed to reopen a long closed case in the light of some damned new evidence? That is huge! So, yeah, I am worried that he might_ Gods know how and why_ get out! And if he does, I need to think of my family first! So here’s the real question_ will he go after father if he is freed?”

Jaime frowned at the intensity of his brother’s tone, stopping with his pizza slice two inches away from the mouth: “Why in Seven Hells would he go after father?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes growling in frustration. “Jaime, please. I might have been a clueless teenager when the scandal happened, but I am a grown man now. You mean to tell me it was a coincidence that the Targaryens were ruined mere months after Cersei’s accident? Do you really expect me to believe father had nothing to do with his best friend’s_ oh, so abrupt_ downfall?”

“You overestimate their friendship.” Jaime rolled his eyes.

“That is not an answer to my question. And no, I do not overestimate anything. You forget that nine years ago I literally kicked father out of his own company and took over. Do you have any idea how dirty our money was? Do you have any idea what sort of shit father was involved in?” Jaime let his head down and clenched his teeth. “Father made Aerys president in the first place_ I know this with certainty, because I had to cover it up. He was the one to manage Aerys’s entire political career. Father always had Aerys’s back from the shadows! No one stood a chance against Aerys simply because he had all the might of Lions&Lions manipulating the public opinion in his favour. Filthy Lannister money was the only reason why the Parliament had never been able to pass the bill limiting the presidential turns to two before Robert. The simple equation is this_ father made Aerys and I am damned sure he unmade him too!” Jaime rolled his eyes. “Look, I was 16 back then and kept away from everything of importance, as I was by no means a candidate to continuing father’s legacy. All I know came from numbers_ the company’s finances, legal documents, and contracts, father’s black books of illegalities_ but you know everything first-hand. I need to be prepared! I do not want Lions&Lions tied to this country’s greatest scandal! I worked too hard to clean everything up! I will **_not _**be beaten in a fucking _18 years after_ epilogue. So tell me how father back-stabbed his best friend!” Tyrion growled. 

“You overestimate their friendship.” Jaime repeated this time infinitely more bitterly.

“Friendship?” Tyrion rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Jaime, we were family!”

“Don’t!” Jaime hissed.

The younger brother shook his head adamantly. “No, you know what? I will not shut up_ for the simple fact that I cannot remember spending a single vacation without the Targaryens. We have never celebrated the Feast Day of Our Father Above without them! For your and Cersei’s 18th birthday, Aerys had bespoke Dragons made for each of you_ one of a kind luxury cars_ something only Rhaegar received before. So go ahead_ lie to yourself all you want! It does not change the fact that we grew up with Rhaegar and later Viserys in the same houses, same boarding schools, same everything. We were always_ always_ together! We were family and Rhaella was the closest thing to a mother I have ever had and your stubbornness is not going to take that away from me!”

“Rhaella is dead and they betrayed us.” Jaime whispered.

“No! Rhaegar betrayed Cersei! That is it! That is all it was_ a one on one thing.”

“You are wrong!” Jaime scoffed. “And a hypocrite.” His brother’s green eyes locked into his, the cheap pizzas cold, dried and long forgotten on the two plates. “We have ended up talking about the trice damned Targaryens in the first place because you are worried father might hypothetically become a target if Aerys is freed and seeks revenge. Father_ _our father__ the man who put his whole legacy on the line just to prove you were not his son! A man so cold and calculated that he wrapped this entire country around his little finger_ yet he lost all common sense and reason when presented with the chance of getting rid of you! A man so blinded by his unjustified hatred that he did not even consider you were a step ahead of him, betting with a fact you already knew to be correct. Father lost everything because he did not want _you_ as his heir. _That_ is the man you go full on _‘we are a pride of lions’_ and _‘nothing else matters, only us’ _for. That is the man you still strive to protect and impress with every breath you take! Yet, when it comes to Cersei_ there is no _us_. Noooo, when it comes to Cersei _it was a one on one thing_!”

Tyrion swallowed hard, trying to steady his pounding heart. His brother’s words had cut him deeper than a Valyrian steel sword of old would have. The worst part of it was that Jaime was right. Over the years, Tyrion had gone to extreme lengths to protect his brother and father_ to keep them out of jail in spite of their crimes, really. Yet, when it came to Cersei, he continued to display the same juvenile hatred he had harboured in his heart during their childhood and adolescence. Cersei had been a selfish, narcissistic, manipulative, evil shrew. She had also been a _harmless_ selfish, narcissistic, manipulative, evil shrew. Given the chance, she might have turned more vicious and dangerous than his father and brother combined. But she had never been given that chance. She had died at merely twenty. His brother had killed and injured people. His father could be accounted for traffic of influence, embezzlements, and money laundry_ just to name a few. Yet, the biggest crime Cersei had ever committed while alive was that of being a _rich mean girl_.

“I am sorry…” Tyrion whispered. “I am… I truly am sorry. You are right… they did betray _us_.”

“Why do you hate her so much? She’s been dead for years_ can’t you forgive her?” Jaime closed his eyes to blink away the pearls forming in them. Tyrion turned his head away, pretending not to notice.

“You said it yourself...” Tyrion smiled sadly. “We were never an actual family. Is that not what father kept on telling us? _We are a pride of lions… we don’t have to love each other, we don’t have to like each other, we have to take care of each other. Nothing else matters_ only us._ Yet, when the Targaryens were with us_ part of that _us__ it felt like we were an actual family. When they were there, even _I_ was part of _us_… the murderer, the dwarf, the shame of the pride.” Jaime sighed deeply and Tyrion looked at him with guilty eyes. “I know it is wrong and horrible of me to blame Cersei for Rhaegar cheating on her… but I do it nonetheless. Funny how life works_ is it not? Cersei had always pointed her finger at me as the reason why we were not a family_ I was born and ruined everything! Well, now I am the one doing the finger pointing. She died and ruined everything_ even the little we still had.” Their eyes locked into each other and none dared to blink. _“She’s been dead for years_ can’t you forgive her?”_ Tyrion imitated Jaime. “No, I cannot_ as it’s precisely the fact that she is dead what I cannot forgive her for.”

Jaime took the remote and turned off the TV, before standing up from the sofa and hurrying to his mini-bar. “I have this homemade spirit of 73% ABV, called something weird, that a student of mine brought from beyond the Wall. Apparently, it is made from weirwood tree leaves_ some special ancient wildling recipe. Want some?”

“The whole bottle will do…”

A much needed silence fell between them, while Jaime poured the two glasses of alcohol. None of them spoke until after the first three or four sips were down their throats. Then Jaime cleared his voice. Tyrion bit his lower lip.

“Earlier_” Folding a leg beneath him, the older brother turned his body fully towards the younger one. “_when I said I had been to see someone, I meant my therapist.”

Tyrion frowned. “I did not know you were seeing a therapist…”

“She’s new… and, there’s a twist to it_ to which I will get, eventually. The whole Brienne Tarth incident made me realise I have lived for too long in the dark_ so I decided to do something about it. I was very happy when you suggested we should meet here_ as I actually wanted to talk to you about some deeper things – a suggestion of my therapist. The topic of Aerys was not on my list_ Cersei was, tho’, albeit I hoped we would talk about her in a more orderly fashion, not just blurting feelings out_ but, it will do.”

Letting his head down, Tyrion chuckled softly. “I did not mean to blurt anything about Cersei out_ like at all.”

“It was not father_” Jaime said in one breath, before quickly taking a generous sip of spirit. “Father did not backstab Aerys_ I did.”

“Jaime!” Tyrion gasped loudly.

“Father and I had different views on the Lannister course of action following Cersei’s accident_ he wanted to take the safe, long way. He did a classic 180º and started pouring money into Baratheon’s party, while still pretending to fund Aerys. He wanted to undermine the Targaryens slowly, from the very root. Father was a calculated man, who wished to take no risks_ precisely because, as you’ve said, we were waist deep in filth. I did not know about it at that precise moment in time. All I wanted was to go for Rhaegar’s throat_ which I did.” Jaime passed his tongue over his lips. “Long story short_ by pure chance_ while trying to dig Rhaegar and Lyanna’s graves, I discovered Aerys’s terrorist plot. No one_ not father, not Rhaegar_ no one knew about it. I was terrified! I had to do something, the weeks were ticking by and Aerys wanted to blow shit up a couple of months before the elections. I used father’s _discreet _contacts to get straight to Arthur Dayne_ he served as Director of National Intelligence under Aerys_ and did a phenomenal job at protecting the country from every single threat, except the one of its very President. I worked with him day and night while pretending to be in nursing school and in under six moons we had everything we needed to bring Aerys down. The only reason why his downfall was so abrupt and unexpected was the fact that we were on a ticking clock. The country did not have the luxury of taking the long road, waiting for father to make the opposition rise. Aerys is a terrorist and he was dealt with as such!”

“You saved the capital…” Tyrion whispered in awe. “Why have you never said a word about this?”

“To ensure no one would ever come after me or mine, of course! So worry not, baby brother_ it’s been taken care of. Everything is classified_ neither Lions&Lions, nor the Lannister name will ever be linked with this country’s greatest scandal.” Jaime smiled, raising his glass and Tyrion did the same. “I might be a renegade, but we don’t have to love each other, we don’t even have to like each other…”

“We have to take care of each other.” Tyrion finished and the brothers clinked their glasses.

“Of course_ I did not stop there.” Jaime smiled guiltily, sipping from his drink. “I still had to ruin Rhaegar’s life and avenge Cersei.”

Tyrion frowned. “Destroying his family, his relationship with Lyanna and his chances to ever get into politics had not qualified as _ruining his life_ enough?”

“How was it my fault that Lyanna sided with the Stark-Baratheon duo and not with her bastard-baby daddy? Do not get me wrong, I was pleasantly surprised_ but it was not on me_ well, it was a corollary of the whole Aerys affair, but still, not directly on me.” Jaime scoffed, rolling his eyes. Tyrion grimaced as the memories of Albert wrapping his arms around Aegon’s neck in the school’s parking lot filled his mind. Of all the people in the world, how did those two end up together? How did_ precisely_ Jaime’s and Rhaegar’s _bastard-babies_ fall in love? In how many ways would the teens be hurt once the shit hit the fan_ for there was no way to prevent that from happening.

Tyrion sighed. “What did you do to Rhaegar?”

“Nothing_ I did not get to do anything because of father.” Seeing his brother frowning in confusion, Jaime lifted his shoulders in an exculpatory fashion. “I wanted to bring down DLW and leave the Targaryens Flea Bottom poor_ I knew their finances were questionable, so I followed some dirty trails and dug up some illegalities that_” Jaime looked in Tyrion’s eyes and bit his lip. “_ that nearly threw father in prison and left _us_ poor. I had no idea how bad our books were so as I unwittingly ended up throwing stones at Lions&Lions.”

Tyrion held his breath and looked at his brother without blinking. “You know what Cersei used to call you?” He eventually said.

“Yeah_ the stupidest Lannister.”

“Well, based on what you’ve just told me_ she was not wrong.” Tyrion burst into laughter, but stopped abruptly when he saw Jaime letting his head down.

“That was the moment when and the reason why father pulled the plug on Cersei_ straightforward retaliation_ just to punish me.” Standing up, Jaime went straight for the bottle of alcohol and refilled his glass.

“Jaime, that is not true_” _it cannot be true_. Tyrion whispered beneath his breath.

“Why? Does it sound unlike father?” His brother stopped in the middle of the room, lifting the glass to his lips.

Tyrion dared not reply to that particular thought. Instead, he settled for saying: “Jaime… there was no hope left for Cersei.”

Jaime nodded. “I know_ I understand it now, I even accept it. However, it does not change the fact that what father did was brutally cruel.”

Tyrion felt his heart ripping apart in his chest. “You blame yourself…” His words of painful revelation came out weak and shaken.

“Not as much as I used to…” Jaime smiled. “Tyrion, I am not at all the man I used to be nearly twenty years ago, but that man was _me_ once_ and until I accept it and embrace it, I will never be fully able to enjoy the life I have worked so hard to build for myself.” 

Tyrion’s eyes drifted from Jaime to the room they were in_ _the life Jaime had built for himself_. The life Tyrion had always perceived as an utter waste. As if able to read his thoughts, Jaime continued.

“That look right there, brother_ that is what I mean! Since I have returned from Essos you have never_ not once_ looked at me without thinking I am broken.” Jaime shook his head. “I am not broken, Tyrion. I simply broke free from the pride_ I am a self-made man and I am proud of my accomplishments_ and you should be too.”

Tyrion swallowed hard and looked his brother up and down. _Jaime was fragile__ wasn’t he?

“When Cersei died, I lost not only her. I lost myself. Leaving guilt, anger, sorrow, grief aside_ with her gone, I had no idea who I was. We were a unit. We had plans. We had dreams. We had goals. We knew what we were meant to do! We turned 20 and we started building towards our future_ following father’s rulings to the letter. And then the accident happened_ just like that there was no _we_ left. For the first time in my life, I had to be a whole and not merely half of one. And do you know what I realised?” Tyrion bit his lower lip and shook his head. “Our plans were _her plans_. Our dreams were _her dreams_. Our goals were _her goals_… the future we were building was _her future_. I came into this world holding her foot_ I was basically her _footman_, ready to open doors for her and ease her life in any way. I loved our sister with all my heart_ but it took losing her to realise just how much she had always manipulated me.” Tyrion tried to supress a smile. “Father’s decision to let Cersei go was the turning point of my life. I loathed him_ I still do_ for the way he went about it, but he forced me to be my own person.”

“Then what the hell did you do in Essos?” Tyrion could not help but ask.

“Failed.” Jaime confessed wholeheartedly. “I ran to Essos to be able to grieve in peace, to find some closure and hopefully the meaning of my own life. I never intended to disappear_ far from me was the thought of abandoning you and, even less so, that of hurting myself or taking my life. But I slipped and failed miserably and the worst part is that I do not even remember how!”

“All these years, Jaime! Why have we never talked about it before?” Tyrion growled.

“In my first day of rehab you said _‘let’s never talk about Essos’_ and so we never talked about it_ and now my therapist said we actually should have, so we are.” Jaime said with a crooked smiled. “She also said I should tell you_ in actual words_ that I am sorry for fleeing the way I did and that I am grateful_ from the bottom of my damned soul_ that you have not abandoned me and you've sent your dark horse to save me… thank you, Tyrion.”

A deep frown of surprise furrowed into the younger man’s forehead as his misty eyes locked into his brother’s with bewilderment. Tyrion had never realised how much he needed to hear Jaime’s words of apology and gratitude.

“Don’t do the emotional face, dear brother_ no son of Tywin ever cries!” Jaime shook his head and rolled his eyes in disgusted disappointment, imitating their father’s mannerisms. Tyrion laughed wholeheartedly.

“I am not broken, Tyrion. This is who I was meant to be.” Jaime walked to the coffee table and put his glass down. “I went back to University to finish my degree, I have a masters and a doctorate in literature. I am a senior lecturer at the most prestigious University in the Westerlands_ and I am on track to becoming a professor in the next two years. I love my job! My students love me_ look at my wilding homemade spirit brought as a gift from beyond the Wall. I have no debts, except for a decent mortgage on an apartment I adore_ look at it! It’s perfect! So much light, so many books_ so neat.” Jaime bit his lip looking around the large living room. Tyrion did the same. Two of its walls were covered in ceiling high shelves_ all in white_ and all filled up with books, from the bottom to the top. His velvet light blue sofa was positioned quite in the centre, with the back and one side towards the bookshelves and facing the large smart-TV on the opposite wall. The place behind the sofa, in the shadow of the tall shelves_ that was Jaime’s safe spot. It is how his brother liked to read as a child_ sitting on his ass on the floor, hidden from sight. Tyrion smiled thinking of Jaime living alone and still hiding up to read his books in peace. The fourth wall was all windows offering a glorious view of the Sunset Sea_ his desk was there and nothing else. Tyrion bit his bottom lip_ yeah, alright, the flat was beautiful and it had a kitchen fitting a dining table of six_ or eight, Tyrion had not truly paid attention_ and two bedrooms.

“This is my life, Tyrion… and I chose it. I worked hard to be where I am. I worked hard to earn every single silver stag, doing multiple jobs until I reached a place in life where I had an actual career, with a very generous salary. I bought the furniture for this flat, piece by piece, for three years_ and I did so happily. And I wish I could have told you about it_ I tried once and your reply was that I have a multimillion gold dragons trust fund and I should just stop pretending to be middle class. But no_ I am middle class, because I made myself so! I built my life entirely without filthy Lannister money!” Tyrion let his eyes down, allowing Jaime to breathe in and continue on the same calm and composed tone. “And I get it, you worked hard as well in order to save father’s legacy_ and it became _your_ legacy, your company! I couldn’t be prouder of you, Tyrion! You cleaned up everyone’s shit and now you should enjoy the beautiful side of Lions&Lions! Expand it further. Keep it legal. Stop worrying about the past_ we’ve got it covered and covered _up_!”

Tyrion sighed. “I never knew you felt this way… and I actually realise I never gave you the chance to make yourself clear.” Thinking back, Tyrion saw himself refusing every and each one of Jaime’s invitations into his new life. He refused to be part of his new circle. He refused to ever visit him at the University_ alas he refused to attend the graduation of Jaime’s first PhD student – he barely attended Jaime’s own graduations. Always of the belief that participation would sanction Jaime’s behaviour and render his new life _valid_, Tyrion refused to do it. _That_ was not Jaime’s real life! _That_ was a sham! Jaime needed to put himself together and live his _real_ life! Jaime was fragile!

“I have been so stubbornly blind_” The younger brother whispered. “Year after year I tried to make you give up your life_ year after year I employed newer levers and devised newer plans to bring you back and I never once thought you _actually_ did not want to be back! I insisted and insisted until I succeeded_ I brought out the biggest guns with _La Nymphe Europe_ and you could no longer refuse me_” _and look how it backfired! _“I just always thought you should be a writer, Jaime. You have great talent and you loved writing_ and do not say you did it only for Cersei, you know it is not true.”

Jaime chuckled and nodded. “But I am a writer, Tyrion…”

“I suppose that in a way you are. You do have academic articles published in fancy academic journals_ I have read some and I even understood a couple… but you know what I meant by _writer__ the published sort, the Brienne type.”

Jaime walked past the sofa and went to his bookshelf, looking up and troubling his lip. Reaching for a red hard cover book, he took it out before walking back to his place beside Tyrion.

“Here…” Jaime said sitting down and handing him the book.

“_A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms__ another favourite of yours you want televised?” Jaime rolled his eyes and Tyrion smiled looking back at the book. “Oh, Albert King_ I have heard of him. He is getting big_ I was actually considering reading his latest novel to check his potential. Is this it?”

“No, the latest one is called _A Pride of Lions_…” Tyrion frowned and Jaime shook his head. “Get there faster, you’re supposed to be the smartest Lannister.”

“Albert!” Tyrion looked down at the book and back at Jaime. _Albert King! Albert_. “It’s you!”

“Told you I was a writer…” Jaime smiled, reaching for his glass and taking a solid sip of his strong drink. “I thought the name was witty_ and I low key hoped Brienne Tarth would realise I was poking at the fact that she should have made Albert a King and not merely a Prince Consort.”

“I cannot believe you’ve been published and did not tell me about it!” Tyrion’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“Relax, brother_ you still are the first person to know. Not even my editor knows who hides behind this pen name. And it’s just these two novels for now. So you have not missed much_”

“I have failed you_ didn’t I?” _Always thinking the worst_ never giving the benefit of the doubt. Never giving a chance._ Tyrion inhaled deeply to steady the pain in his heart.

“Don’t be ridiculous Tyrion… you are the best brother one could ask for. You have done things for me no one else would have_ and now it is my turn to do the same. I promised you _La Nymphe Europe_ and I will write for you_ as soon as we get Tarth to agree with it. First, I need to figure out how I’ve upset her in Meereen… and I am working on it.”

“What do you mean?” Tyrion asked with newly found worry clawing at his chest.

“My therapist_ she is rather unorthodox. A colleague from the Faculty of Psychology recommended her, because she is eager to do sessions of hypnosis as well as normal ones. I want to trigger my memory to remember Essos_ or at least as much as possible about it.”

Tyrion closed his eyes to battle the avalanche of panic. “You really_ really_ don’t have to…”

“No_ I actually do have to! It is part of coming at terms with my past in order to stop it from sabotaging my future.”

“Oh, Gods!” Tyrion covered his face with his palms. _Fucking hells… your past will do nothing but sabotage your damned future! _“Is it_” _necessary?_ “_safe?”

“Well_ probably not 100%_ but it’s not as if I can forget more…” Jaime grimaced.

“Have you remembered anything?” Tyrion hurried to ask.

“No, nothing yet.” Tyrion exhaled in relief. “Though_” His heart tightened up all over again. “I did dream something interesting twice.”

_Long legs wrapped around you?_ “What would that be?”

“A young girl, rather copper skinned_ of maybe eleven-twelve.” Tyrion blinked several times, Edith’s face forming quite clearly in his mind. “I dreamt of her looking deeply into my eyes_ cupping my cheek with one hand and holding the index finger of the other on the tip of her nose, while repeating over and over again: _Focus Jaime, focus…_”

“Jaime_” Tyrion cleared his voice, inhaling deeply. “Are you sure you want to find out what happened in Essos?”

“Completely.” Jaime nodded and then stopped abruptly. His emerald eyes widened in sudden realisation, while his jaw clenched. “Have you built a file on me?”

Tyrion nodded with a growl. That was it. Game over. Defeated in a _17 years after_ epilogue.

“Of course you have, you controlling Imp! It beats me how father never realised you have always been his one true heir. You are exactly like him!” Jaime hissed. “The girl I dreamt of_ is she real?”

Tyrion nodded again. “Yeah_ it appears so. Her name is Edith_ but, before you ask, I do not know much on her. She was freshly added to the file_ two days ago.”

“Tarth_ you know don’t you?” A single nod from the younger brother. “How bad?” Jaime swallowed hard.

“Oh, Seven_” The dreaded moment was upon him. Tyrion felt like throwing up_ or feinting. Maybe both at once and he could choke on his own vomit and be spared of having to tell the truth. .

“How bad, Tyrion?”

Tyrion averted his gaze, unable to look at his brother. His eyes fell on the book that still rested on his lap. “Albert_” Tyrion trailed the name with two fingers. “_ beautiful name.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Jaime growled snatching the book off Tyrion’s hands.

“I am not_” Tyrion hissed in response, snatching the book back from Jaime. “I was trying to figure a way of saying that Albert is your son’s name.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Looking forward to reading your reactions. Xx_


	6. ALBERT I - From another seed entirely...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ **Happy New Year everyone!** _   
  
_Part of my New Year little traditions and superstitions is to do on January 1st something I wish to keep on doing for the rest of the year_ and in this case that is writing and posting fics._   
  
_I was so looking forward to this chapter as it introduces a fresh voice with the help of which we get to uncover more about the lives of our main characters. I am so curious as to how you will welcome Albert's first PoV._   
  
_I want to thank so very much to the wonderful **JailynnW** for the beautiful poster! It absolutely turned my mood around when you sent it to me last night. I feel that it fits this chapter so very well and I love looking at my beautiful **Golden Lion™ Jr.** You also amused me so much with a certain thing you said the other day, so guess what? There's a **New Year's Egg** in there for you again hahahaha._   
  
_ **Happy New Year! And happy reading!** _   
_ **Xx** _

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“Ma’…” Albert whispered tenderly, as the car stopped in the high school’s parking lot. Brienne turned her head to look at him, her wonderful ocean eyes locking into his. Fighting the urge to bite his lips in remorse, the young man reached for his mother’s hand. “Mommy…” He added lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “I love you more than anything in the whole world_ and don’t you ever forget it!” He would hurt her and the thought of it pained him to his core.

“How could I forget it?” Brienne smiled, moving the hand he had just kissed to his cheek. She caressed his soft skin and the boy melted under her protective touch. _A horrible son, that’s what he was!_ “You will always be my darling little baby boy_ whom I know, oh! too well for his own good.” His mother’s fingers caught his chin quite firmly and she made him look straight into her compelling eyes. Albert gulped. “So tell me, little minx! Why are you so soapy all of a sudden? What kind of mischief are you brewing?”

His heart stopped for a brief second, the genuine desire of pleasing his mother and doing right by her struggling to overpower his more selfish impulses_ the all-consuming battle of wills he had to fight his entire life. Whereas most of his friends_ Aegon being no exception_ never seemed to be good enough for their parents, regardless of what they did and accomplished, he had been blessed_ _cursed__ with a mother in whose eyes he was _too_ perfect. It was an entirely different kind of pressure, yet a great pressure still! Brienne never took his _mischief_ seriously. When he was a little child, his mother’s tolerance for his _naughty behaviour_ had been so welcomed… but now, oh! now there were days when he wanted to cry out to her: _Mother! There is darkness inside me! Please see it! _

Albert chuckled, catching her wrist and rolling his eyes. “Can’t a boy tell his mother that he loves her without her getting all suspicious?” The truth was his mother could not see darkness if it hit her in the face, for there was none inside her pure soul. She could not understand that side of him. That side of him was not _her_. That side of him came from another seed entirely_ and that was why he _had!_ to go meet his father. Alone, on his own terms_ without her and without her knowing.

Brienne narrowed her eyes, yet smiled widely. “No, not when the said boy is 16 and right in front of his school! Suspicious, suspicious, suspicious!” She laughed.

Albert leaned in and started pressing repeated pecks on her cheek. “You’re all crazy if you think I am ashamed of being seen with you! It might be the case for other boys at 16, but you’re a freaking celebrity!” He teased. “Hanging with you only increases my cool!” When she puffed and tried to pull away, Albert wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “Let people see us!” He laughed. “Let them take pictures and post them on Raven_ I like being talked about!”

“Oh, Seven!” Brienne rolled her eyes, letting a high-pitched giggle out. She held him tightly for several long seconds. When they parted, there was no trace of amusement left in her ocean gaze. “Are you sure you are alright, my starling? These past three weeks have been…”

“I know…” Albert nodded quickly, his heart pounding once again as the guilt built up anew. _He was an ungrateful, horrible son!_ “I am so grateful you are my mother, Ma’… I might be _slightly _confused_ anxious and restless for the school break next week and the whole thing with meeting the man I barely dared to think of for so long, but these new developments do not change the past sixteen years! You gave me the world, you _are _my whole world and, in the greater scheme of things, nothing else matters_ only us.” Albert smiled softly, then wickedly. “_ and Aegon, of course!”

Brienne opened her mouth to say something but the school’s bell rang derailing her trail of thoughts. “Go now darling or you’ll be late to classes_ we’ll talk more of it in the evening.”

Albert bit his lips and then grimaced. “Yah, ahm, about that. I’m kinda’ sleeping at Aegon’s tonight…”

“Again, Albert?” Brienne growled.

“Yes, again!” Albert replied narrowing his eyes in a quick instant. Truthfully, he’d been on shaky grounds with his mother for quite a few moons. The unexpected materialisation of his _sperm donor__ as he and Aegon used to call the phantom man who had squirted him in a Gods forgotten hotel in Meereen_ ended up being an opportunity for a much-needed truce and renewed love between mother and son. Nothing turns teenage tantrum fits into dust quicker than hearing one’s mother on the verge of a panic attack at the other end of a phone conversation. _Albert, Al… you would not believe what happened._ Before Brienne could catch her breath and gather her words, a million worst-case scenarios crossed his mind. His mother’s powerful reaction at seeing the man who had changed the course of her life_ the shock, the fright in her voice_ brought Albert’s blood to a boiling point. He had to protect her at all costs! All traces of their repeated fights were erased and the issue that most clouded Albert’s mind for weeks and weeks took a momentary backbench as he strove to wrap his head around what knowing who his father was actually meant for him and his mother.

The situation_ however_ could not remain as such, for time was slipping through his fingers! Gods, he adored his mother and most often than not he worshipped the ground she walked on_ but now he also knew of a different type of love! A love that made his world brighter, a love that fuelled his dreams and accompanied his thoughts every waking hour_ a love so great, so pure, so painfully far away that it ripped his very soul apart and shattered his spirit to pieces!

“Aegon will leave again for the Wall right after the holidays and we won’t see each other for more than six moons! I will die! I will actually die, Ma’!” The words came out more desperate than he had wanted them to, but they were true nonetheless. “Please, please, please! Please tell me you’ve thought of the boarding schools?” Albert begged on a trembling tone.

_I do not want to fight a girl! _Those were the first words Albert had heard Aegon saying. They were eight, respectively ten_ an islander and a northerner taken from their friendly environments and transplanted into the inhospitable grounds of King’s Landing’s most elitist neighbourhoods. _It’s not chivalrous!_ The older boy declared throwing his foil to the ground during their induction fencing class. _I am not a girl!_ Albert protested stomping his foot. _But your hair is all long and shiny…_ That was it! Albert leapt forwards and planted his foil into the rude boy’s heart. He hated the stupid northerner! He hated the stupid capital_ it was crowded and noisy and the beaches were all wrong! They had stupid umbrellas and chaises everywhere! At that age, Albert could not understand why it was a great thing they had moved away from Tarth. He did not know his mother was becoming a well-known writer, he did not realise she was at last able to follow her dreams, to build a great career for herself and_ even more importantly for her, as he eventually learnt with age_ able to lay at his feet the best opportunities Westeros had to offer. They had never been poor, as his grandfather was one of the highest-profile lawyers of the Stormlands, but now they were steadily becoming rich_ independently so. Albert hated it all, until one day he did not.

Brienne rolled her eyes and started the car’s engine. “Go to class, Albert.”

He was nine when he caught Aegon crying in a dark, remote corner of their school’s library_ it was a week before the school break for the Feast Day of Our Father Above. _Who’s the girl now?_ He had snarled crossing his arms in satisfaction. _Go away, Albert!_ He did not_ he took out of his pocket the phone his mother had bought for his latest nameday and snapped a picture. _I’ll show everyone during lunch break tomorrow that you’re a crying sissy!_ Giggling maliciously, Albert turned on his heels to leave. _My father does not allow me to go home to see my mother..._ The words were whispered, but they seemed to echo loudly in the silence of the library. That day Albert made his first real friend. With the years, he learnt of Aegon’s unhappy childhood, caught between two parents who could not see eye to eye, two families that spoke poorly of one another, and a custody battle that ended up with him being forced to move from Winterfell to King’s Landing. All Aegon dreamt of was going back North, where he felt he belonged_ blessed be the coming of age for granting him that wish! 

“You know what?” Albert hissed at his mother’s dismissive tone. “Now that I am thinking of it, this whole episode with my father is entirely too convenient for you. For three weeks you kept my mind busy with it to the point where I almost forgot about the deadlines for transfers!”

“For the love of Gods, Albert!” Brienne pierced him with a deadly gaze. “Stop the nonsense with the boarding schools! How many times do we have to fight over this? You are _absolutely-not!_ moving to the North to follow a teenage crush! Out of question! End of discussion_ go to class!” His mother commanded him with the authority of a German feldmarshal.

Albert was not yet in high school when Aegon celebrated his 16th nameday and Arianne Martell insisted on playing a stupid game whose sole purpose was to enable her to kiss his _best friend_. She got her wish and dragged the celebrated boy into a bathroom, turning off the light on their way in. The greatest storm the Stormlands had ever seen was a sunny day in comparison to what Albert felt those dreadful five minutes. His stomach revolted to the point of nausea and his heart threatened to break out of his chest, cut to pieces and bleeding. For the first time since the day they had met in fencing class, Albert wanted to leap forward and crush Aegon in any way! Punch him in his perfect nose until it broke_ twice! Kick him hard in his treacherous balls! Tear him apart limb by limb! Gouge his eyes out! Nothing in the books of torture of the olden days seemed too extreme, yet for some unimaginable reason, he felt paralysed_ unable to move. He stood there, in front of the bathroom’s door, like a stuffed dummy and waited for the nightmare to end.

“Aegon is not a teenage crush!” Albert got out of the car growling and howling.

_Nothing happened…_ Those were the first words Aegon said when the bathroom’s door opened and their tormented eyes met above Arienne’s head. None dared to blink as the petite Dornish girl scattered away. They were left alone staring at each other for what felt like a whole eternity and another half. His heartbeats were so loud he could have sworn the echoes were heard throughout the Targaryen mansion. _I think I love you, Aeg…_ The words left his mouth without any form of permission. _I know I do…_ came the unexpected reply and to that day nothing sounded sweeter in Albert’s ears.

He loved Aegon with such passion it felt all consuming! He loved Aegon beyond reason! He _loved _Aegon! He did not even know if he was into women, or whether he liked men_ it mattered so little because he loved Aegon and Aegon alone! The Maiden herself to descend among the puny living and Albert would still see no one but Aegon.

_A teenage crush…_ how could his mother say such a thing? Her dismissiveness felt like a betrayal_ and so did her stubbornness to keep him in King’s Landing! Why would she not understand how much he needed to be close to Aegon? Had she not paid attention to how much he suffered since Aegon moved away? In a year and a half, he would go to the Night’s Watch University anyway! Why was it such a difference if he went to a boarding school closer to the Wall before that?

“Alright, Albert_ maybe not a crush, a teenage love, it’s still not something you can build your whole life on and you should understand that_” 

“A teenage love?” The world in front of his eyes turned a bright shade of red. “He is the love of my life_ but what would _you_ know of love!?” Albert slammed the door so furiously his mother’s car shook. Throwing his bag over his shoulder he rushed towards the school with no second glance back.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Looking forward to hearing what you all think of this chapter. Xx_


	7. ALBERT II - Don't be brave, Albert... just be yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello everyone! So nice to see you again. Here's a new chapter that I hope you will enjoy_ I have to say that I really love it myself. A lot is going on again and many more details about the past will come to light._   
  
_**JailynnW**, thank you to the moon and back for the wonderful banner. I absolutely adore it! I have to admit this is my favourite so far_ because you know how much I love my kid_ I mean... Brienne's. As for Rhaegar_ I do believe that once one sees it, one cannot un-Rhaegar Geralt. Is it known! Who's with me?_   
  
_**Merrymaya** thank you so much for everything and particularly for always listening to me. I know this fic started with a strict 'no spoilers' policy and in the past two weeks it became 'all the spoilers you can eat, like non-stop, just eat them'. Thank you and Jailynn for not minding me spoiling the fun beforehand and for listening to all silly backstories of this 'verse, silly backstories that might or might not see the light of day._   
  
_**To my dear readers_** if you wonder how we got to know each other better and started talking about our Braime stories, well the answer is that we have a precious little WhatsApp group called **Braime without borders**. If you want to join us, you are all extremely welcome. Just drop me a message on Tumblr (my username there is exactly like the one here)._   
  
_Hope you'll all enjoy the chapter and don't forget to let me know what you think of it._   
_ **Happy reading!** _   
_ **Xx** _

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Albert sat down on the cold bench of the bus stop near their school. He growled low in his throat and let his head fall in his palms. _What would you know of love? _The dreadful words echoed loudly in his mind. He was a fucking idiot! What had gotten into him to attack his mother like that? He should have bitten his venomous tongue before letting that uncalled for cruelty slip off his lips.

All too well, he knew his mother was sensitive to the subject. Whenever he asked her about delicate matters she had tried to be open and sincere with him_ she had tried to treat him like a friend who could understand. His mother had trusted him with stories of her own experience and he threw that trust right in her face! _What would you know of love?_ Albert rubbed his forehead furiously. She knew plenty_ yet none too good. His mother_ his wonderful, precious mother_ had been hurt by love more than once. It was no wonder she felt cautious with her heart_ no wonder she tried to protect _his_! He was her _darling little baby boy__ she would murder for him and he stabbed her below the belt!

Unbidden, salty pearls formed beneath his closed lids. As if burnt by them, Albert lifted his head, crossed his arms tightly at his chest and swallowed back the tears, blinking rapidly several times. He took in a deep breath, steadying his pounding heart and trying hard to subdue the overwhelming feelings of remorse. He hated crying_ he hated it! It was entirely against his nature. The only times he ever cried were when his mother did, unaware of him seeing her_ _Mommy!_ His emeralds tripled in size and turned a pure verdant-green hue. The pearls returned to his lids increasing the transparency of his irises so much that his eyes looked like the most precious gems.

_Had he made his mother cry? _Defeated by the mere thought, two bitter tears rolled down his face, dying impaled in the bristles growing on his cheeks. Albert bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image of his mother’s tear-stained face in the back of his mind_ preferably before he did something stupid out of guilt, like calling her apologetically and risking to blow apart the whole plan of meeting his father alone.

Well, not _alone__ for Aegon would be there, but _alone_ without people who could influence his father’s response to seeing him and his response to seeing his father_ namely, his mother. Albert sighed. He was a horrible son! Truthfully, as Aegon always said, he was a damned spawn of the Stranger... of a _stranger_ that he chose to betray his mother for. A thousand arrows pierced his heart causing another couple of tears to fall down his cheeks. Brienne deserved so much better than him skipping school and going behind her back. The worst part was that his mother would understand_ she would completely understand his need of meeting his father _alone_. She would be supportive_ as she always has been.

Yet he simply could not bring himself to telling her the truth. He _had_ to do it the way he had planned. He _needed_ her to _not_ know he was with his father for the first time. He just needed that element of surprise on all fronts. He wanted to catch his father off guard, to get the measure of him_ the _real_ him_ before he got the chance to script it all out. He needed to feel in control of that experience because, for years, he had dreamt of his father. For years he had thought of questions with no answer_ Who was his father? What was his name? How did he look like? Beautiful, with green eyes and golden hair_ that much his mother had told him, but how did he _really _look like? And even more importantly_ had he known the truth about having a son, would he have stayed? Would he have cared at all? Would he have at least called on his namedays? Sent him a card? Take him out for ice-cream? Albert sighed biting his bottom lip.

His mother had never lied to him_ and yet she did not have to tell lies for him to realise she was not at all comfortable talking about his father. Even as a little boy he knew better than asking too much and too often_ he was a _stranger_ to her as well. She had nothing to say about the man who had sired him and she was much too honest a person to lie about it. His mother was a writer of great imagination_ a writer who had written thousands of pages of history for a make-belief land. His mother was a writer_ a writer who had modelled hundreds of characters often from thin air and dust. Not his father_ no! She never tried to make him up out of something he was not. The man changed the course of her entire life and she barely gave him a role in her novel! Twelve volumes_ thirteen, with the unpublished one_ and his father’s character showed up twice: first to sire a royal bastard and then to say he does not want that bastard.

Maybe his mother’s honesty was sometimes a bit too much. It was transparent how Brienne wished her son felt about his missing parent. Not wanting to upset or trouble her about it, Albert took the note pretty early on. By the time they moved to King’s Landing, he had long ceased to bring his father up in conversations. Even when he grew older and they talked about the matters of the heart_ friendships, love, feelings_ his mother never mentioned him. And, of course, Albert did understand_ or at least tried to understand_ that his father was nothing to her. Out of the deep love he felt for his mother, he strove for that _stranger_ to be nothing to him as well! Oh, he so wished it to be true… but then…

_“Albert, love, please be honest with your mother.” Aegon’s soft plea warmed his fast-beating heart. He troubled his lower lip with his teeth, pulling at a small strand of cracked skin until he felt how the metallic taste of blood tingled on the tip of his tongue._

_“I want to… Gods, I want to! I really want to, but I cannot.” A deep sigh, followed by a loud growl escaped his throat. “You should have heard her, Aeg! The panic in her voice_ she barely made sense. She’s in distress, breathless, gasping for air every other word_ Gods, I tried but could not figure whether she was crying! And that messed with my head, because you know how I get when ma's crying…”_

_“Breathe – huuuuuh, huuuuh.” His boyfriend instructed him through the phone from the other end of the continent. “In and out… Slowly. Deeply.” Albert followed Aegon’s instructions. “Your mother is in shock, which is absolutely understandable. She had a rather unexpected encounter_ a ghost might have shocked her less than seeing your father. But, love, Brienne is the most level-headed person I know_ and I know my uncle Ned!” Albert could not help but chuckle at that. “So, trust me when I say that she will be fine once she calms down and lets it all sink…”_

_“I guess…”_

_“You do not have to ‘guess’, you know this to be true. And there’s more_ you know your mother is the epitome of selflessness and she has always put you before herself. You know that once she returns to the capital she will cook some spectacular dinner for you, she will sit you down and pet your pretty golden hair and then she will want to hear about what you feel and what you think the two of you should do about this sudden materialisation of your sperm donor out of thin air.” Albert smiled sadly at Aegon’s words. He was not wrong – his mother was most likely to do just that. “Aaaaaaand, when she opens that door for you_ the door you have waited to walk through for most of your life_ what will you say to her?”_

_“That…” Albert gasped, biting his lower lip thinking of it. He knew too well what he wanted to say! He knew it in his head. He knew it in his heart. But for the life of him, the words would simply not leave his tongue. His mother was the epitome of selflessness_ just as Aegon said. His mother put him first ever since he hijacked her future by coming uninvited into her life. The least he could do was to respect the fact that she never wanted him to care for his father. “I will tell her that I do not care to know a thing about my father.”_

_“Albert Selwyn Tarth!” Aegon hissed._

_“I cannot, Aegon! I cannot tell her I care!” He cried out. “In her heart, my mother does not want me to care_ and for years now I tried to make that clear to her. Look, our life is perfect as it is! She worked hard and gave it her all for me not to feel like something was missing from my life. I cannot go now and be all like_ ‘oh, actually, I have always fantasised about my father. I have always missed him, so screw your feelings, I want to meet him.’ You hear me, Aegon? I cannot do that!” Albert took in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “And look_ he doesn’t even know I exist. We’re not gonna go tell him that and ruin his life… That would be selfish_ and my mother taught me to be rather selfless!”_

_“Beauty…” Aegon whispered sweetly with a sigh. “You’re scared... and it is alright to be. Look, I will do everything in my power to submit my term papers as soon as possible. If I have to stay up a week straight to finish everything earlier, I will! And I promise to you I will be in King’s Landing with two weeks, or at least one before the semester ends_ and we can talk everything through and then we can go meet your father together. Just you and I_ we’ll take my dragon on a little road trip to Lannisport.” Albert all but squealed in eager anticipation at his boyfriend’s proposition. Aegon giggled softly before making a kissing sound at the other end of the line. “I love you, you little messed up boy. It is going to be alright_ just, please, Al… please do not be brave about it. You know how I hate it when you’re brave. What do I always say?”_

_Albert sighed: “Being brave is not a quality_ one is only ever brave when one is about to go against one's most genuine instincts. Bravery might have helped the knights of old not flee battles screaming in panic_ but in our time and age, it is just stupid!”_

_“Attaboy! And please remember that you are lucky enough to have a parent who takes your opinions into serious consideration. It’s a luxury, you know? All my father’s money never bought me that. So when Brienne gets home and sits you down and asks you how you feel about the situation_ please, my love, please_ just be yourself and answer her in all honesty and we’ll take it from there.”_

Albert pursed his lips remembering that old conversation. Needless to say, he did not do what his caring boyfriend had asked him to. What he did was the exact opposite and with deplorable results! He had been so categorical in his speech about how he did not want to hear of his father that Brienne became determined to sell off _La Nymphe Europe__ her life’s work almost lost in a heartbeat over a damned lie. Thankfully to all Seven Heavens, his meddling little uncle swooped in_ quite frankly_ saving his ass and giving him a second chance to voice his desperate desire of meeting the man responsible for his very existence.

Right then Aegon’s car turned around the corner. Shaking the sadness off his eyes, Albert stood up from the bench and waited for his boyfriend to pull over. Only moments passed before the passenger door of Aegon’s bespoke DLW opened upwards for him like a magnificent dance of dragon wings. _Gods, how he adored that car!_ Granted, all DLWs were luxury cars designed to allude to the idea of a dragon. Anyone who owned one was filthy rich, but the ones the Targaryens drove were something else entirely. There were only three of them_ each a coming of age gift. Each unique. Each modelled to fit the needs and personalities of their drivers. With no doubt, Rhaegar’s car_ a precious vintage by then, tastefully updated and upgraded with regularity_ was the crown jewel. It was pitch black SUV, intimidatingly tall and wide. Entirely majestic. Rhaegar called it Drogon_ a name which amused Albert terribly. _Drogon?_ He was 9, barefoot and wearing a blue pyjama. He was at Aegon’s for their first sleepover and, long after Rhaegar had sent them to bed, they sneaked into the garage to look at the beautiful car. Only the one_ for the Targaryens’ expensive car collection was kept someplace else. For their day to day life_ Aegon explained to him_ Rhaegar decreed they did not need any other car but Drogon. _Drogon? You mean like… a doggo who’s a dragon?_ And they both laughed so hard that Rhaegar caught them in the act and sent them back to bed. The second car belonged to Aegon’s uncle, Viserys. The man was an utter jerk_ the most narcissist human being Albert had the misfortune to meet. His dragon_ entirely predictable_ was called Viserion. It was coloured in the precise shade of its driver’s hair, it glittered in the sun and_ quite frankly_ it was too much in every aspect. Albert once joked that it could easily pass as Miss Westeros’s wheels. The third one was Aegon’s_ an ideal of craftsmanship, performance and automobile beauty. A two-seater hypercar, with gullwing doors and active aerodynamics_ priceless for speeding on the motorway faster than the wind. _Rhaegal__ a subtle nod to his father and to the very idea of the lost regal splendour_ was just like Aegon: simply breath-taking! Mind-numbing! Fascinating in every detail! Refined! Elegant! Brilliantly quick! Tenacious on most days and freakishly aggressive when the situation called for it. _Oh, how he loved him!_ Albert got in and leaned to press a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. And, of course, the car was all that as well_ but in a precious shade of Kelly green.

“You’ve got your sulking face on. Having second thoughts?” Aegon frowned at him, while he put his seatbelt on.

“Well _hello_ to you too.” Albert rolled his eyes. “Why must you see right through me all the time?”

“Because you wear your feelings on your face, just like your mom_ who will murder me very soon unless you changed your mind and we’re no longer going.”

Albert shook his head, fingers reaching for the touchscreen display. “No, we’re still going.” He worked his way to the navigation system. “Hey, Ella!” He called out to the Targaryen's personal AI. “Destination - Lannisport.”

_“Lannisport - 928 miles to destination.” _Rhaella Targaryen's voice replied to him in all her sweetness. Like much about DLW in general, Ella had always fascinated Albert. He couldn't have been older than ten when Rhaegar told him about his mother_ the woman who had run the company with an iron fist for many decades. The stress got to her and she died unexpectedly of a heart attack. As technology evolved in the years following Rhaegar becoming CEO, he used old recordings and videos of his mother in order to give _Ella_, the new assistant of the Targaryen family, the most beloved voice.

“And yes, I’m sulking. I had a really bad fight with Ma' earlier this morning.” They had 928 miles to their destination. Rhaegal could very easily get them there in under 8 hours. Aegon, on the other hand, would do no such thing. He was too responsible to use his dragon at full power_ reason why they’d most likely reach the Western Coast barely on time to catch the sun setting in the Sunset Sea. Dropping in on his father’s afternoon lecture was deemed _“utterly unreasonable, Albert”_. They’d have to wait until the following morning to meet Jaime Lannister.

“What did you do?” Aegon sighed, signalling for departure and softly pressing the acceleration.

“Why do you immediately assume it was my fault?”

“Was it hers?” Aegon frowned sceptically driving past their school.

Albert shook his head. “Well, no_ of course, it was not.” He let his eyes down and swallowed. “You will get so mad at me if I tell you what I did…”

“So it was the boarding schools again?” Albert nodded. “Why can’t you just drop it, Al? You know I miss you too and I would love for us to be together all the time again_ but one year and a half is not the end of the world.”

“Not the end of the world?” Albert growled. “Of course it’s the end of the world! You’re at the end of the world!”

Aegon rolled his eyes, following Ella's indications onto the Gold Road motorway. “I can count on my finger the times you and your mother fought along the years. Now it’s every other day! And it makes me feel wretched with guilt to know that I am the reason why you do it!”

“But it’s not your fault_”

“You bet it’s not my fault, you little brat!” Aegon hissed. “I have not asked you_ not once!_ to move to the North for me. I would never do something selfish like that, no matter how much I miss you_ and again, I repeat it, I do miss you like hells! But I would never even dare to expect such a financial and emotional sacrifice from the woman who for 16 years did nothing but financially and emotionally sacrificing herself for you! And it frankly beats me how _you_ dare to expect something like that from her.”

Albert bit his lips and reached for the school bag he had dropped at his feet. Unzipping it, he took out a bag of crisps. “Careful with your comfort food crumbles in my car!” Albert mumbled something before stuffing four crisps into his mouth, dropping two in his lap. Aegon growled and rolled his eyes. “You’re a fucking nightmare!” In a triad of _sorry-sorry-sorry-s_, Albert promptly picked the two crisps up. “There’s only that many times you can say ‘sorry’ before it completely loses its meaning_ and I’m not talking about the crumbles.” His boyfriend added softly.

None spoke for several long minutes, Aegon keeping his eyes on the road and Albert eating his crisps while lost in self-battering thoughts.

“I want you to stay in King’s Landing, Al.” Aegon said on a low and even tone. Albert opened his mouth to protest, but his boyfriend allowed him no such thing. “I cannot be the reason why you disrespect your mother_ I am anyway taking you to Lannisport behind her back, which is not how I wanted this trip to happen. And I am painfully aware that this will affect her opinion of me. I can only hope her disappointment will be temporary_ but, alright, I do understand _your_ reasons. And I am all in. I am doing this for you! Because my love for you beats my common sense and because I am the only one who knows how much you’ve always yearned for your father. But you will have to make things right with Brie when we get back_ you know how much she means to me and how much I love her.”

_“Your mother’s the funniest!” Albert laughed holding the cup of hot cocoa between his frozen fingers. Winterfell was a much lovelier city than King’s Landing, but Gods! it was terribly cold even in late summer._

_Aegon nodded with a bittersweet smile, while looking through the café’s window as his mother crossed the street and walked away. “Yeah, she’s quite funny.” It was not the first time Albert met Lyanna, but it was the first time he got to spend more than just a couple of hours with her. He and Aegon had recently become a couple and they were even more inseparable than before_ if that was even possible. After many pleas and promises of good behaviour, Brienne and Rhaegar agreed to let them spend the vacation for the Feast Day of Our Father Above in the North._

_“I know that dragon-wolf pup face. ‘Yeah, she’s quite funny’, but?” Albert tilted his head and pursed his lips, analysing his boyfriend’s face._

_“But_ I have always thought I love my mother a bit more than I love my father. She always gave me so much freedom and showered me in all sorts of public displays of affection_ spoiled me in every respect. She made me feel loved in a way I never felt from my dad_ but the past two-three times I was here, I started seeing things quite differently. I started understanding dad’s side of the story more. I know my father comes across as a cold-blooded reptile but, like all dragons, there’s warm fire burning inside him… He raised me to be what I am. I owe him my entire education_ I owe him what I am. As much as I suffered back then, now I have to admit that father winning that custody battle was a great chance for me. Mom is a free spirit_ she’s always defied norms and did her thing. I am sure her recklessness shortened Uncle Ned’s life with quite a few years. She’s amazing_ she really is_ but she wouldn’t have been an amazing full-time parent.” Aegon stopped and looked into his eyes. “Not in the way Brienne is…”_

_Albert bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He knew his mother was the best mother in the world, but it felt inappropriate to admit it in the context. He settled for sipping from his cocoa. Aegon did the same._

_“When you think about it, our moms are much alike. They are both rather… ahm, un-girlie girls… They’re fighters with kind hearts. They followed their dreams and made their own choices in life. They both had children in their late teens, with men that were not there for them... but unlike my mom, yours adjusted her life path to accommodate you in it. Mom just went back to how things were before_ and that is great, but it hurts a bit the way I was never a priority for her. It sucks when the fantasy breaks and you see your parents as people who are not that perfect as you always thought they were... It took me six years to actually realise that while I was in Winterfell I basically lived with my Uncle Ned. In spite of not liking either of my parents too much, Aunt Cat did take care of me the same way she did with Robb and Sansa. Aunt Cat took me to nursery and then school. She fed me at her table, she enrolled me for after-classes… For mom, I was_ well, her favourite doll. The one she came to play with in the evenings and weekends, after everything else in her schedule was done. And Gods how well she knew how to make up for all the lost time to the point I failed to realise just how much lost time there was… And we’re here for two more days and mom’s off to spend her afternoon and evening with her polo team.”_

_Albert reached for his hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m sure she just wants to give us some privacy…” He offered politely, not wanting to say something that might have painted Lyanna in any bad light._

_Aegon smiled with a hint of gratitude. “Yeah, you’re right. That must be it.”_

Albert bit his lip in remorse remembering their talk about Lyanna and his mother. His boyfriend’s mommy issues made him feel even worse about his own behaviour. “Aeg, there’s more. I also said some really bad stuff this time…”

Aegon turned his head towards him for a short second. No words were needed for those dark grey eyes to put him to shame even before he issued his confession. Albert gulped covering his face with his palms and mumbling from behind their cover. “Mom said that what we have is a _teenage love_… to which I replied with _‘what would you know of love?’_.”

“Are you for real?” Aegon gasped and Albert nodded. “Oh, just Father above! I hope she slapped you so I don’t have to…” Albert shook his head left and right without removing his hands. Aegon growled and with a quick sharp move he elbowed Albert in the ribs.

“Fuck that hurt!” He complained rubbing his side.

“Did it? More than how much your words must have hurt Brienne?”

Albert let his head fall. “No...” He whispered. “It was really low of me to say that_ and I said it, out of rage, precisely because I knew how much it would hurt. You know my mom loves you a lot. She sees you as a son_ but that’s not why she was rather less than thrilled when we started boning.”

“Or _dating_, as an educated lad would say.” Aegon glared.

“Yah_ that.” He took in a deep breath. “So here’s the story. When my mom was a young girl she had a best friend_ Renly Stag. He was the little brother of my grandfather’s junior associate_ Stannis. But when I say ‘little’, I mean Renly was my mother’s age, nearly 15 years younger than his brother. I don’t know exactly why, but Stannis was his brother’s guardian. My granddad was quite touched by the whole story so he really took Stannis under his wing and so my mom and Renly grew up pretty much the way we did_ and again pretty much the way we did they started _dating_, as an educated lad would say, when they were in the second year of high school. My mom was deeply in love with him. She thought he was the one for her_ _the love of her life__ for who else could ever replace what she had with Renly? They had ten years’ worth of special memories and innocent feelings turning passionate. Renly was kind. Renly was sweet. Renly was perfect beyond perfection… and entirely gay.” Albert sighed. “You know my godmother Marge?” Aegon nodded. “Well, it turns out the reason why Renly started dating mom was to cover his relationship with Marge’s brother, Loras. Renly was apparently afraid of Stannis, who was quite a homophobe. So he used my mother as his ‘beard’ for two years! And then right before senior prom, Loras had enough of this ‘inconvenient’ situation. He made a monster jealousy scene and demanded to be taken to prom by the man he loved_ and so Renly did. He dumped mom two days before prom with no remorse. The news spread like wildfire in their school and even in other schools in Storm’s End. Mom’s last month of senior year was an utter torment_ she was relentlessly mocked and even harassed by people who had nothing better to do than laugh at the fact that an ugly girl had been used as a tool by two pretty boys.”

Aegon was clenching his hands on the steering wheel, barely daring to breathe. Albert let his head fall in his palms and, unable to stop himself any longer, he burst into tears. “Marge was in Meereen…” He mumbled in between sobs. “…the dancing school there was really good. She swore to my mom she had no idea about Loras and Renly and begged mom to take a gap year and go work in some café_ to change the scenery and meet new people and gather ideas for her novel. And so Ma' went to Meereen_ for she was desperate to run away from the Stormlands. Marge is a darling but she’s a slu_ what an _educated lad_ would call a really bad influence.” Albert reached for his bag and dug in until he found some paper tissues. He took one out and started blowing his nose loudly. “I’m sure there’s something not for my ears in the real story but, as you already know_ the version I’ve been told is that Marge kept on daring mom to do all sorts of _social activities_ and one night she got herself pregnant_ and _taadaam!_ Here I am_ a fucking drunken mistake! Now, like back then, still making my mother feel worthless and undeserving of real love.”

“Al...” Aegon whispered reaching for his forearm and squeezing it for comfort. “Don’t beat yourself up like this, please_ it breaks my heart.”

“I thought you thought I deserve a thorough beating up.”

“Well yeah, but then you started crying... I hate it. Stop it, please!” Aegon smiled sadly at him, bringing his hand back on the steering wheel. “And you know, in spite of how you came to be, you did bring your mom much more joy than sorrow_ but hells that story is truly heart-breaking! That Renly's a dick! Poor sweet Brie... she deserves to have the world at her feet. The beauty of her soul is a thousand times more striking than_ well, even than your beautiful face! Brie deserves a man to make her feel special and loved like no other.”

“And a son who goes back to her crawling on his knees, begging for forgiveness...” Albert added passionately.

“Yes!” Aegon all but shouted. “You do that! That’s very mature of you_ if we were not speeding at 110 miles/h, I’d kiss you for the _breakthrough_ right now.”

“Tongue?” Albert smiled licking the tears off his lips and placing a hand on Aegon's upper thigh.

“Down boy, I’m driving.” Aegon chuckled and slapped his hand away. A sweet smile remained on his lips for a short while, before abruptly melting away. “Listen_” His boyfriend said on a grave tone. “I have a story too_ a really bad one. I’ve found out about it yesterday_ I spent hours rolling in bed, tormenting myself over how to bring it up to you. But since we’re on the subject of our parents’ love lives_ we really need to talk about who my father’s been with in his youth, before_ well, kind of before_ he met my mother.” Albert frowned grimacing. Aegon troubled his lower lip with his teeth. “You know how you always say my father hates you?”

“Yeah_ and you say he does not, it’s just that I remind him of someone from his past.” Albert rolled his eyes. “Are you about to reveal I was right all along?”

“Open the glovie…” The words were spoken barely above a whisper. Albert did as instructed reaching for the little compartment in front of him. “See that envelope? There are some family pictures inside…”

“You look rather nauseated.” He observed opening the mustard yellow paper pocket. His long slender fingers slipped inside and slowly slid up the pictures enclosed. A shining mane of golden hair was what captured his attention first_ the one it belonged to was with the back to the camera, pretty ass squeezed in tight denims, head resting on a muscular shoulder, petite nose nuzzled into the neck growing from that shoulder. Two muscular arms were wrapped around the person’s middle, golden mane captured tightly underneath the strong embrace. Only then his eyes registered who the manly body belonged to_ a young Rhaegar. Albert frowned whispering a _‘what the hells?’_ while bringing the picture closer to his eyes for a more thorough inspection. Rhaegar was smiling with the right corner of his bottom lip caught between his canines, eyes sparkling lustfully_ and he had all the reason to. The person pressed against him seemed to have the fingers of both hands dug into his hip muscles_ beneath the shirt! No doubt they were a couple.

“This picture was taken in the back garden of your manor_ I know the swing in the background.” Albert murmured staring at the golden mane. The longer he started, the more his stomach was reduced to knots. Those shiny locks looked entirely too familiar. A dreadful thought took roots in his brain and he felt like wanting to throw up. It could not be right. It could not be!

Long minutes of silenced passed before he could tear his eyes away from the picture. When he dared to speak, his voice sounded unpleasantly hoarse. “For the love of the little sanity I was born with, Aeg, please_ I beg you to tell me that’s not my father! Oh, Gods_ it is my father, that’s my father, isn’t he? Oh, fuck_ eww, eww, eww, eww, eww!” Albert panted pressing a hand on his stomach and beginning to cough in disgust. “Were they lovers?”

“NO!” Aegon squealed. “That’s your aunt!”

“My aunt? Eww, gross_” Albert exhaled in relief. “But much better!” His eyes returned to the picture. He tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Wait_ my aunt? Like, there is an _aunt?_ That your father used to bone_ _date!_”

“There _was_ an aunt_ she is no longer alive.” A hint of guilt was transparent in Aegon’s tone. Albert frowned analysing his peculiar reaction. “Her name was Cersei.”

“I have her hair…” He observed.

“Well, it is your father’s hair as well_ they were twins and looked freakishly alike. There are more pictures_ your father is in most of them too. You always wondered how he looked like_ let me tell you that a good look in the mirror was all you ever needed to have your answer.”

Albert looked down at the pile of pictures in his hands, fingers itching over the photograph with Rhaegar and _Aunt Cersei_, yet he felt like he could not move to the next one. His heart was beating like a hammer in his chest. Suddenly, it dawned on him that in spite of being on his way to ambush his father_ he was not entirely sure he had strong enough nerves to meet the man. Gods, he was not entirely sure he had strong enough nerves to look at a picture with the man!

“I’m getting cold feet…” He mumbled after staring for a while_ quite aimlessly_ at the pictures in his hands.

“Oh, I never entertained the idea that you would not.” Aegon chuckled. “But no worries, beauty, I’ll kick your sorry ass until your feet get warm again. You think I’m about to drive nearly 2000 miles in three days, piss off my father _and_ disappoint your mother for you to chicken out?”

Electrified by his boyfriend’s words, Albert straightened his back and moved onto the next picture. He was no _craven!_ He would do what he had planned to do! He would get to know his father_ and the sooner the better!

Looking down, he saw _himself_ smiling out of the same old photograph twice. Granted_ his father had his jaw slightly squarer than his aunt and he looked a bit wider in shoulders_ but beside that they looked much the same. They seemed to be in their early teens, matching clothes and golden manes waving down to elbow-length. Their emerald eyes shone in tandem, his left arm was around her waist, her right hand on his shoulder. They looked like they owned the world together. The following picture had a teenage-Rhaegar holding a baby-Viserys in his arms. Cersei was sitting to their left, his father to their right_ or the other way round, because he could barely tell them apart_ and whoever was to the left had a 5ish’ years old Tyrion on the lap. Then there was one with Cersei and Rhaegar looking like cinema stars on the red carpet. They seemed to be attending an exclusivist party. He was wearing a black tux, while she shone in an exquisite golden designer dress. Her left hand was lifted to her blood-red lips rounded in faux surprise_ an obscenely large ruby mounted on gold shining on her ring finger. The picture following was from the same event_ what appeared to be the engagement party of Cersei Lannister and Rhaegar Targaryen. _Mad President Aerys_ had his arm around Cersei’s waist, their heads leaning towards each other. On her other side was her fiancé, holding hands with her_ their fingers intimately intertwined. Beside the groom-to-be was another middle-aged man. He was tall and looked terrifying with his cold smile and golden hair turning grey.

“Is that my grandfather?” Albert asked lifting the picture where Aegon could safely see it.

“Yeah_ _Tywhim_ or something like that.”

Albert only nodded moving to the next picture. _Tywhim_ was much younger and smiling widely in that one_ a toddler twin on his shoulder, the other shoved under an arm. They could not be older than three. The most beautiful woman Albert had seen in his life was on her tiptoes, upper body rotated slightly and head reaching with pursed lips to kiss the child on top. She looked like the Maiden made human! Albert passed his fingers over her head as if stroking her hair lovingly. For an inexplicable reason, the image of that beautiful and tender Gods-made creature made his heart bleed. There was something so innocent about her that he instinctively knew the rotten world they lived in couldn’t have allowed such purity to walk the ground for too long. He wondered what happened to her_ his grandmother_ yet, at the same time he truly did not want to know how she perished. Many other pictures followed_ all with the Targaryen and Lannister children growing up together.

“I am so confused right now…” He placed all the pictures back in the envelope, unable to look at them any longer. “How did you find these now? What do you know?”

“Well, this year marks 25 years since my grandmother Rhaella died. You know that she used to be the soul of DLW_ she brought the company into its golden age with her engineering brilliance and her taste for beauty. My father wants to honour her memory with an exhibition of her best designs. The other day he asked me to sort through my grandmother’s sketches and plans and I found_ take my phone from my jacket’s pocket and go to _gallery__ there are a few pictures of some photographs that I could not remove from the files my father had me look through.”

To his surprise Albert found himself staring at two convertible cars_ one silver, one gold. Zooming in, he slid the screen left and right between them. “They're identical dragons? New prototypes or commemorative limited editions?”

“None.” Aegon shook his head. “Swipe two or three more pictures.”

“I cannot believe this! Bespoke dragons_ made for my father and aunt?” The picture on Aegon’s phone showed the dragons wrapped as gifts with bows on top, while the Lannister twins were high five-ing each other in between their new luxury cars.

“Silverwing and Vermithor_ that's how they were baptised by the twins. Silverwing was Cersei's_ Vermithor belonged to your father. They're identical only in looks_ their properties and specifications are quite different actually. These two dragons and Drogon were hand-drawn by grandma. She lived to see Drogon manufactured and gifted to my father_ but she died before the other two became reality. It seems that my father was the one to make sure their production went through…” Aegon sighed. “After I saw that picture and grandma’s sketches clearly labelled _‘Jaime Lannister’_ and _‘Cersei Lannister’__ it hit me: father always said that grandma ‘Ella was the one who came up with the idea of creating unique cars for the youngsters in the family_ it meant Jaime and Cersei were part of the family! I have never heard of the Lannisters in my life_ not once. The first time I heard of them was when you told me your father's and uncle's names. I did not even know they owned Lions&Lions! I knew _the Imp_ did, but that was about it. And yet_ the Lannister twins got dragons for their 18th birthdays. Just like my father, Viserys and I_ that is huge. I had to find out the truth and I knew I could not ask my father_ so I went to Buttons. He had to know for he has been our gardener from before my father was born.”

Albert bit his lower lip, his heart clenching in unspoken pain. “So what is the truth?”

He knew what the truth was_ the truth was that Rhaegar must have always known he was the son of Jaime Lannister! He must have known! There was no way he did not know_ Rhaegar had seen him growing up the same way he had seen his mirror-double father growing up. Rhaegar knew and he deliberately kept it a secret. _You remind him of someone from his past!_ Aegon’s eternal excuse_ apparently not an excuse at all_ echoed in his mind.

Albert never liked Rhaegar Targaryen much, but a seed of resentment took sudden and deep roots in his heart.

“Turns out that our grandfathers met in university and became best friends_ so my father and yours were raised like brothers_ together all the time. They’ve been there for each other in good and bad times alike. Later on in life, my father and your aunt started dating_ one thing led to another and my father proposed. Two months later, dad met my mother at that Polo Championship finale. It was love at first sight. They started an affair straight away, although my mother was underage. It was not long before she became pregnant. To protect my mother’s reputation, my father broke off his engagement, breaking your aunt’s heart while doing so and_ your aunt killed herself.”

Albert gasped, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Poor precious thing!” Aegon lowered his chin, eyes sparkling once again with the guilt Albert had noticed earlier. “Aeg, don't be absurd. My aunt's death is not on you! It is not your fault...” He whispered, placing a reassuring hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Hm_” Aegon interjected unconvinced. “It kind of is_ and I find it a bit hard to like my parents right now, so I am terribly glad we are going away and I have a couple of days to try stomach the news. I was in my room_ pretending to be asleep_ by the time my dad returned home yesterday. I could not really face him. And I am not entirely sure how meeting your father will go. I was rather worried he might not like me even before knowing how much pain my birth has caused him. Now, on top of that, I am terrified that my presence at your side when meeting him will not be as neutral as you believed it to be_ I am afraid that me being there will influence your father's response to seeing you.”

“He does not have to know…” Albert proposed with a sad little smile. “Unlike me, you do not really look like your father_ or like a Targaryen of any sort. You could easily pass off as a northern bastard.”

“Some random Jon Snow?” Aegon laughed.

“Uuuuuuuu, that sounds pretty dashing! Let’s call you that for now_ I see no reason why my father’s opinion of you as a person should in any way be influenced by your parents’ past_ because you’re pretty damn amazing.”

“I love you too.” The smile of gratitude and delight on Aegon’s pretty lips prompted Albert to lift his hand and pass his fingers through his boyfriend’s black curls. Aegon moaned softly.

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” Albert’s hand rested on Aegon’s neck and he leaned into it.

“I was thinking we would not be sleeping tonight_ and for that I did book an expensive hotel room with a waterbed and jacuzzi.” The car started signalling right. Aegon took the nearest exit off the motorway. “Let’s take a short break, I need to stretch.”

As soon as the car came to a stop in the parking lot of the petrol station, the boys’ lips crashed together. Aegon slipped his tongue between Albert’s teeth seeking his comfort and reassurance of love. The young lion groaned, fingers clenching in the dragon-wolf’s curls, pulling him closer and closer. Their kiss became a battle of wills, each boy devouring the other until they nearly lost their breaths.

“Thank you for not hiding the truth from me.” Albert whispered hovering over Aegon’s swollen lips when they eventually parted for air.

“I would never lie to you Albert_ but I have to admit I was terrified of how you would react. You rather surprised me_ I thought you would be really upset.” Aegon confessed grimacing a little.

“Oh, I am!” Albert nodded vehemently. “I am really_ really so terribly angry with your father. The bastard knew all along, didn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely! There’s no way he did not know_ only a naïve fool would believe him innocent.” Aegon passed a strand of hair behind Albert’s ear, slowly rubbing a thumb over his cheek. “I am sorry, Al_ it pains me to know my father could have helped you meet yours at a young age, but decided to deprive you of the chance to know the truth, purely due to selfish reasons. I cannot change what my father did_ and we cannot turn back time, but you have your chance now. Better late than never_ and I want you to promise me something. Tomorrow when we meet your father, you will give him a real chance. You will be patient with him and polite. You will not test him in any way, you won't throw shades at him, you won’t snarl, nor roll your eyes, nor play smarter than everyone around_ if I introduce myself as _Jon Snow_, for him to meet _me_ and not _Rhaegar Targaryen’s son_, then you absolutely must allow him to meet the real you too! Don’t be brave, Albert! Just be yourself... your father will love you.”

A solitary tear rolled down his cheek. “Promise me Aeg that he will love me?”

With his own eyes covered in mist, Aegon kissed the tear from Albert’s cheek. “I promise he will!”

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Eagerly waiting for your opinions! Xx_   
  
_ P.S. If anyone's interested in how Rhaegal looks like, what I have in mind is this particular Pagani Huayra 2012:_
> 
>   



	8. ALBERT III - In the shadow of our parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ **My dear readers,** _   
_I hope this update finds you and your families well. The world has become an entirely disturbing place in recent weeks. If you need a little Braime support group to ease your minds in these hectic times, drop me a message on Tumblr (same username as here) and I will gladly add you on our **Braime without borders** WhatsApp_ although I have to give you the heads up that it has kinda turned into a 'quarantine around the world' online gathering._   
  
_Thank you so much **JailynnW** for the beautiful PoV banners. I cannot wait to make use of all of them while introducing the new characters... particularly Rhaegar. *wink* *wink* Thank you ** merrymaya** for helping me polish this chapter into the best version of itself, truthful to both characters' personalities. The fact that you two listen to my spoilers non-stop means the world to me! You are my real MVPs. Love you truly!_   
  
_**Happy reading everyone!** Please let me know what you think of this chapter._   
_ **Xx** _

++++++++++++++++++++

“Text her…” Aegon whispered barely louder than the sound of waves crashing onto the rocks beneath them. It was a beautiful morning in Lannisport_ splendid, really. The sun was shining brightly above the sea, without a shadow of a cloud to diminish its brilliance. The end-of-summer rays were warm and gentle_ like a mother’s touch. Albert sighed.

They had decided to walk to the University_ _“It may help you calm your nervousness”_, Aegon had insisted over breakfast. It did not help at all. If anything, it made his _nervousness_ worse, as the shortest way from their seafront hotel to the famous _campus-by-the-sea_ was_ expectedly_ by following the coastline. A miscalculation, if his throbbing heart was any indication. It all felt too familiar and too foreign all at once.

The Westerlands, unlike the Crownlands and the little island he knew so well, were a distinctively rocky region. There were no sandy beaches in what had once been known as the _Kingdom of the Rock. _The entire coast was an abrupt cliff which rose tall and commanding above the Sunset Sea_ and that made her furious! A mighty _nymph _kept at bay by an unmoving beast! Trapped, constraint, unable to reach the heart of the continent_ for that is what she seemed to wish, given the strength with which her waves fought to break the coast’s resistance. The scenery was simply breathtaking… 

_“Mama…” _Echoed in the air, as if carried by the currents, and Albert took in a deep breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the azure horizon. He loved the sea_ he adored it! Its melody, its scent, its blue_ they were all _home_ to him, they were all _her_ to him. And after everything he had done and said the previous day, Albert could not walk by the sea without ripples of guilt crashing onto him with the ferocity of those waves demanding their rights_ it was _almost_ as if his mother demanded hers!

_“Mama…”_ A child called again and it took him several moments to realise the little voice came from within. _“Mama, look at me…”_ His four years old self beaconed from what was his earliest memory.

_Another sea. Another summer. Home. Tarth. Their favourite beach, where grass bristled through the sand and one could pick wildflowers with one hand and shells with the other. Precious. Unknown by the many. Untouched_ most of the time. That day_ yes! They were all alone there! No intruders to spoil the fun and the Narrow Sea was restless_ just how Albert loved it best!_

_“Mama, look at me!” He laughed rolling on the dampness the waves had left behind in their hasty retreat. He loved the waves! They were his favourite toys in the entire world! And no amount of mud on his face, or wet sand in his little swim-shorts could convince him not to play tag with the sea. Naturally_ the sea won all the time. He loved running towards the sea, as she pulled away. And loved running from the sea, as she turned around to follow him. But, most often than not, those waves crashing onto the beach were too fast and too strong for his wobbly legs. Most often than not, he could barely keep standing and his little body ended up tumbled and rolled back and forth. Not knowing whether he’d end up with his face towards the sky or with a mouthful of mud was the best feeling in the world. “Mamaaaa…”_

_“Albert…” His grandfather said admonishingly while shaking his finger at him. Trouble. His mother was working and he should not disturb her. Calling for her at every wave was disturbing_ was it not? It was! His grandfather’s eyebrows said so. Albert grimaced. Then laughed. Standing up from the ground, he ran back towards the water. The sea turned her course and he squealed loudly running away from her again. That wave was a strong one and caught up with him quickly and furiously! He was trashed so thoroughly he ended up swallowing quite a bit of that sandy-salty brew. He yacked dramatically_ pulling his whole tongue out. Then he licked his lips. Deep down, he loved the taste!_

_He picked himself up_ again. And ran towards the sea_ again! This time he entered deeper a bit, just a bit_ for he was not allowed to go alone past the point of where the water went above his knees. It was the rule! His mother made all the rules_ and he was a good boy who dared not disobey her words. Albert turned around and looked at his grandfather. And, just in case he got a rare urge not to listen to his mother’s rulings, his grandfather was there on the shore_ standing as tall and broad as a mountain_ just to make sure no naughtiness came to pass._

_Albert grinned mischievously at his grandfather. Then looked down at the sea reaching his knees. Should he dare? His grandfather said no word and made no move_ giving him the choice to do the right thing of his own accord. Albert sighed. But he wanted to swim! The sea was just right! Unbidden, his little eyes moved past his grandfather and landed on his mother. She was on her stomach, on her blanket on the sand, writing her story! No other mother did that_ Albert knew it for a fact. They had talked about their parents’ professions_ that is what Miss called them_ at nursery. It meant what each of their parents worked. And Albert knew that Elise’s mother was putting bad people in jail, just like his grandfather_ but no one else was writing stories. No one! Only his mom! His mom was a writer. Albert smiled._

_“Mama!” She was working_ yes_ but so very suddenly he missed her dearly! And with all his heart. Before he knew it, he was running towards her with his grandfather calling his name and telling him to ‘get back there’. Albert giggled_ not listening_ and rushed to her as fast as his short legs carried him._

_She saw him coming and smiled at him_ all the confirmation he needed that his mother missed him too. Leaping like a cat, Albert threw himself over her, climbing on her back and wrapping his arms around her neck from behind._

_“Uuuuhhh!” She squealed. “You’re wet and cold!” Albert laughed, wiggling his wet body over her sun-heated back._

_“You’re warm like a pancake!” The urge to bite her shoulder_ in order to show her just how much he loved her_ stirred up in the pits of his belly. So he did it! He bit her hard she cried out. Rolling him off her, she trapped him between her body and the blanket. Pouting in disapproval, his mother looked at him with her big sea eyes sparkling in all their wonderful glory!_

_“You are so beautiful, mama!” Albert gasped in awe reaching for her cheeks with both his hands and staring at her face as if seeing her for the first time. He adored her! She was his whole world! His mother smiled at him and leaned down to kiss his nose. Then she kissed his cheeks and eyes and nose and cheeks and forehead and eyes and nose over and over again. Albert giggled and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling himself closer and closer and closer to her. “Can you play with me in the sea where our feet don’t touch the ground? Just a bit, mama…” He begged in her ear._

_Without wasting a single heartbeat, his mother stood up slowly, with him hanging by her neck. She placed her arms around his bottom to support his weight and started walking with him towards the sea, just as his grandfather was coming towards them._

_“Oh, you are a naughty little boy!” His grandfather said using his upset voice and shaking his head._

_“It’s alright, dad.” His mother smiled, hugging him tighter to her chest. She planted a deep kiss on his temple and snuggled her nose in his chubby cheek. Albert grinned victoriously, while his grandfather still shook his head in disapproval. “I deserve a break and so do you. You can take a little nap on the beach while we have a swim and then Albert will nap with you, right my baby?”_

_“Yes, mama, I promise!” He hurried to say still eyeing his grandfather_ who finally smiled back. Great! Albert felt like the world was his! A swim in the sea with his mother and a free getting out of jail card from his grandfather_ in spite of having been called naughty. What more could a boy wish for in life? And off they were deep into the sea!_

_Swimming with his mother was the best swimming! Because she allowed him to put his head underwater and pretend to be a shark. His grandfather was great too, but not as great as his mother. He was less fun to play with, for he was always very careful. The truth was that his grandfather did not want to upset his mother in any way! Grandpa Selwyn had a deep, deep secret_ but Albert knew it all the same: he was scared of Brienne! His grandfather was big and strong and he was the one to protect them all_ but his mother made the rules! All the rules! All the time! And when she wanted to, his mother could scare anyone in the world with just a look! She was exactly like Teddy the Bear’s mother from Animals in the Forest. She was fierce!_

_They swam and splashed and played for a long time and it was not until they heard his grandfather calling from the shore that they realised a storm was coming. There was water in his ears and Albert could not hear what his grandfather said, but his mother gasped alarmed and pulled him in her arms, hurrying with him out of the water. His heart began pounding in fear as he rapidly realised his mother was in distress. She ran with him in her arms towards the blanket and then promptly put him down and fell on her knees on the sand. Desperately, she tried to catch from the pages that had taken off as if summoned by the winds._

_“My sweet one, I am so sorry! I closed my eyes for a moment and I did not feel the winds getting stronger.” His grandfather said in one breath, bending left and right to pick up pages too._

_“Oh, no-no-no-no-no-no!” His mother cried out. “I’m finally meeting another publisher in four days and I worked on these latest edits for over two weeks! And the ending is completely changed! I wrote by hand the whole epilogue_ and it was finally perfect! I had it… I finally had it!”_

_“We’ll find all pages, I promise.” His grandfather was worried, there was no denying. “Albert! Come on, son_ let’s find mommy’s book! Quickly!” Albert nodded and, turning on his heels, he rushed to do his part._

_“Don’t you dare get near the sea alone! And don’t go far away!” His mother commanded so harshly that he gulped. He hated when his mother and grandfather were thus unhappy! He could not bear the thought of his mother crying and she looked like she would soon burst into tears! And it was his fault! He had been a naughty boy_ just as his grandfather said! All too well he knew his mother was working on her story and he went and bothered her nonetheless. Now the story was lost because of him!_

_Tears flooded his eyes and rolled down his cheeks as he ran around that empty beach trying to catch the pieces of paper that were flying around. More than once he stumbled and fell on his knees, but he helped the best he could_ until the rain started._

_“Albert, my baby! Come!” His mother called for him and he ran to her at once, scared not to upset her any further. “It’s alright, dad… don’t worry. I found most of them and what I could not find, I’ll reprint and edit again. It is not the end of the world.” She sounded resigned._

_“Did you find the epilogue at least?” His grandfather asked with a deep sigh._

_“No, but I remember the main ideas… I will rewrite it and make it work again. It’s fine.” His mother nodded reassuringly, just as Albert wrapped an arm around her leg._

_“I got your book…” He whispered faintly while stretching the other arm up to show her what he had managed to find. His mother looked at him with a soft smile, which disappeared as soon as her eyes rested on his face._

_“Baby, were you crying?” She asked alarmed dropping to her knees to be at his level. Albert shook his head strongly while more tears fell down his cheeks. “Shhh, shh, baby don’t… it’s alright!” She whispered pulling him to his chest, crumbling without the slightest care the pages he was holding. She rocked him to her chest, while his grandfather placed a towel around his shoulders. Carefully, his mother wrapped him in the towel and picked him up in her arms. The storm was getting worse by the second, so they ended up running to their car._

_As his mother placed him in his car seat and reached for the safety belt, Albert took his hand out of the towel wrap and handed her the papers. “I got your book, mama…” He said again, just as faintly as the first time. His mother smiled at him and took the pages, crumbled, full of sand and rained on as they were._

_“Thank you, Alb…” She looked at them and gasped loudly. “My epilogue! You’ve found the epilogue!” Her beautiful eyes began sparkling in tears, as she pulled him to her chest and started covering his face in kisses. “Thank you, baby! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved, mama! You are my hero, baby… you will always be my true hero…”_

_Her hero__ Albert sighed at the thought of it, trying hard to hold back the burning tears which threatened to shatter his wavering resolve. Two days after having chased the pages of her manuscript around that deserted beach on Tarth, his mother travelled to Hardhome. Six publishing houses_ four in the capital and two in Storm’s End_ had rejected her debut novel that year. His mother succumbed to desperation, losing faith in herself and the path she had chosen_ something he only came to learn many years later. Utterly defeated, she even submitted an application for the Law School at Summerhall University. The time for chasing chimaeras was up_ she had a child to raise and provide for. She had to abandon her ‘rebellious’ ways and follow in her father’s footsteps_ or so her line of thought went. At only 23, Brienne Tarth had completely given up on her dream to become a writer. That is to say until one morning_ when she woke up with a completely different vision for her story: Prince Albert was dead! _La Nymphe Europe_ had to move on without its main character. It was a refreshing, original concept! His mother edited her novel for days with no end, writing and rewriting the death scene in the epilogue over and over and over again. It had to be perfect_ and it had to be perfect fast! And that day on the beach_ in the 11th hour before her publishing interview_ she finally got it right! With renewed confidence in the story she wanted to tell, his mother had shot right for the stars and approached the most prestigious publishing house in Westeros_ the _Free Folk Tales._ She had one chance! And she indeed returned from Hardhome with a six figures deal. Less than a year later, _Albertine Europe_, the first volume of the long saga hit the bookstores and it was an acclaimed success! Brienne Tarth became a published author all because Tormund Giantsbane_ the founder of the company_ had fallen in love with the _epilogue_. Or so the story went_ a slightly different truth came to light shortly before Albert’s 13th birthday and he had never seen Tormund since. Nonetheless, such had been the beginning of his mother’s writing career and it was her deepest creed that_ somehow_ she owed it all to _her little hero_ who had saved the famed epilogue from a raging Stormlands storm. Albert swallowed back his tears. 

“Text her...” Aegon pleaded again, lifting their intertwined hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss on Albert’s knuckles.

“Why so sure it’s _her_ I am thinking about?” He denied with a sigh. “Maybe I am just anxious to meet my father…”

A high pitched chuckle escaped Aegon’s lips and he rolled his eyes somewhat in amusement. “Fairly silly of you to assume I cannot tell your _guilty _and _anxious _faces apart. We were children together. Pretty sure I know you better than you know yourself.” It was Albert’s turn to roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s cocky response. Prompt_ as usual_ to observe any change in demeanour, Aegon picked on his reaction and added on a softer tone. “Also… assuming I truly was oblivious to your underlying feelings, there were a few recent things that more than gave you away…”

Holding back the urge to growl in his throat, Albert mumbled a low _‘like whot?’ _in response_ despite knowing all too well what would be Aegon’s reproach.

“_Weeeell…_” The dark-haired boy chanted, stressing on the vowel. “Like the fact that yesterday you whined and snuffled in my head for nine hundred miles straight. No matter how I tried to stir the conversation, sooner or later you were getting all misty eyes and deep sighs. And when we arrived in Lannisport you had me cancel our dinner reservation and refused to touch the room service I ordered instead.”

“I was not hungry…” Albert hissed defensively.

“Of course you were not, for you were riddled with guilt about your mother_ so much so that you made no preparation whatsoever for meeting your father. Apart from having this vague idea that we would attend a lecture of his and then go introduce ourselves, you have no plan! Head front into battle, your go-to tactic in everything! You do not even know where the Faculty of Humanities is located within the campus_”

“This can all be solved with a quick online search. Will you just chill?” Albert snapped, cutting his boyfriend mid-sentence.

“Yeah, well, if it’s that easy why did you not do anything yet?” Aegon stopped for a split second then he added quite hastily. “And on top of this, you rejected me last night.”

Albert burst out in a victorious snarl. “I knew it! I fucking knew that you were upset about _that!_” Removing his hand quite unceremoniously from his boyfriend’s grip, Albert picked up the pace.

Aegon caught up easily but made no attempt to hold hands again. “I am not upset at all. I was merely stating the truth to prove my point. As I said_ I know you well, _beauty_. When you are stressed out, you are more than eager to release your tension. When you feel guilty, you sulk.”

“Bulshit, Targaryen! Bullshit! Just admit you’re upset we didn’t fuck_ don’t lie to my face and don't call me _beauty_ as if pet names can help you now.”

“You’re in a hideous mood, _Tarth!_ Don’t twist my words to convince yourself that I am the problem here and not you.” Aegon spat through gritted teeth. “I am not upset about not fucking. What I am_ however_ is pissed off because you have stepped on my every nerve throughout the day yesterday_ and this morning too. I have willingly gotten myself in so much trouble for you to meet your father on absolutely your own terms! I have done everything in my power for you to have the day of your dreams_ and now that we are here you do_ not_ fucking_ care!”

“Piss off!” Albert groaned. 

Aegon took in a deep breath trying to calm down. “Just text your mother and snap out of this wretched guilt! If you do not, you will ruin _today_ for yourself_ and then truly the whole complication of coming here will have been for nothing. Once in your life, own up to your choices and your mistakes_ be a man! You cannot turn back the time. You cannot unsay what you said to your mother. You cannot change the fact that we lied to our parents and drove all the way across the country_ you cannot have your cake and eat it too. What is the point of all this _Sansa_ behaviour?”

His blood heated up by another degree with every new word his boyfriend utter. Feeling attacked and enraged, all Albert could think of was how to lash out back. “You’re just like your father!” The bitter accusation fell like a guillotine_ and for a heartbeat, he felt better.

At once, Aegon drew in a sharp breath and stopped in his tracks. And so the _feeling better _stopped. Albert’s eyes sparkled and widened in immediate response. He began shaking his head frantically, dread overwhelming him as the true meaning of the words he had hastily spoken settled in. “Aeg’, no, no...” The younger boy cooed, reaching to touch his boyfriend. Slapping his hand away, Aegon took a step back. “I did not mean it like that!” Albert cried.

“What did you mean it like, if not as an insult?” Came a low growl through clenched teeth. Albert gulped. Aegon_ much like Brienne_ was blessed with a great sense of self-restraint, patience and tolerance. They were honourable to a fault and often chose to sacrifice themselves for those they loved most. But even they had their limits. And Albert had just overstepped it.

Biting his lips, the blond man buried his chin in his chest_ guilt replace by shame. Prey to his own impulsive nature and to the chaos that had engulfed his mind and spirit since learning about his father, Albert had taken to hurting the only two people who would never_ deliberately or otherwise_ hurt him. “Forgive me, my love...”

“I was upset, you know...” Aegon lifted his shoulders, grimacing in disappointment.

“Please, Aeg’, please... I did not mean to be hurtful.” Albert begged, joining his hands together as if in prayer and bringing them to his chin. “I am sorry for being difficult, I am sorry for not appreciating your selfless efforts_ but mostly, please, please believe me! I am so sorry for involving your father like this...”

“Why bother? I said you were right_ rejoice.” The older boy said bitterly.

“I do not even care what I was right about. How could I ever rejoice when you are hurt because of something I have said and done?” Albert took a step towards Aegon_ yet he pulled back again. “Aeg! Please!” The boy screeched, startling a young woman passing nearby. _Sorry, sorry…_ were added hastily, head turned to watch the woman ward off.

“What will come of us, Albert?”

“Whatever you mean!?” The alarm in his tone was unmistakable. Closing his eyes, Albert breathed in and out several long times. “Please...” He whispered with his eyes still closed. “We’re friends, Aeg_ we will always be best buds. _Nothing_ will come of us!”

Aegon let out a desperate chuckle. “Yes_ precisely what I am dreading.”

“I did not mean it like that! Fuck no_ stop! Just stop!” Albert jolted forward grabbing his boyfriend by both elbows and staring deep into his eyes. “Please... just stop.” He added on a sweeter voice. “Nothing will happen to us. Why would you even say that? Come on, Aeg_ be reasonable! I said and done worse than today. You know me since I was eight_ I am bad news and you kept me near you anyway. Come on_ just remember all we’ve been through! We scratched Drogon with the fencing foils when you turned twelve and we blamed it on Lyanna! If our crime ever comes out, one of your parents will kill us slowly and painfully_ and it’s not the parent I always bitch about.” Aegon fought a smile, which only encouraged Albert to press forwards. “We’re best friends, Aeg. I would take a bullet for you without blinking_ and I know you would do the same for me.”

“You think I am like the parent you always bitch about...”

Albert nodded slowly, while letting his hands fall from Aegon’s elbows. “You are a lot like your father, Aeg_” The words were said with a sad smile. Lifting a hand to his boyfriend’s beautiful curls, Albert passed one behind his ear before lingering with his fingers on the bristled cheek. “But that is not the insult I shamefully wanted to make it be_ please_ please forgive me. I shouldn’t have dissed on the man who raised you, no matter my recent feelings towards him...”

“I worry for us...” Aegon confessed, slowly tilting his head to indulge in Albert’s touch. _Why?_ The blond teen mouthed unable to utter the word out loud.

“Yesterday night, when I leaned in to kiss you and you turned your back on me_ something within broke_”

“I will never do it again! I swear on all Gods!” Albert blurted in one breath.

Aegon shook his head softly, lifting a hand to remove Albert’s from his cheek. The younger boy bit his lips trying to stop himself from protesting as their hands fell by their bodies and their fingers lost touch once more. “No, Al’, you do not understand. You were right_ I was upset. But not about the sex_ not exactly. You shut me out precisely when I needed your love the most_ precisely when I needed reassurance that what we have is real. You shut me out the same day your mother said we were nothing more than a _teenage love..._ the same day I found out a relationship can end in a heartbeat_ just like that_ as if growing up together and years of love meant nothing.”

“Aeg’...” Albert whispered trying hard not to reach out for his hand again. “Don’t be daft_ that has nothing to do with us! Renly was and asshole and what he did to my mom_”

“I am not talking about your mother_ but of my own parents.” Albert could not suppress a frown upon hearing the words. Aegon sighed and passed his fingers through his curls, shuffling them nervously. “My father and your aunt Cersei grew up together_ didn't they? They were great friends, then fell in love and got engaged_ he bought her a big ring and they threw party worthy of the Academy Awards. They had it all planned out in life and then_ just like that_ my father fell in love with someone else! He met an utter stranger and gave up everything for that stranger_ just like that.”

Albert’s heart skipped a beat pondering on Aegon’s words. _Just like that..._ the boyfriend mouthed again, this time without making a sound. His dark eyes darkened as a glossy layer seemed to cover them. “What do the two of us even know of romantic love, Albert? It’s not as if we ever saw something like that while growing up.”

“I know what I feel...” And it was all he could say for he realised too well that Aegon’s words were not entirely wrong.

“I know what I feel too... but we’re kids, not even twenty. Who guarantees me you will not go to a polo match and fall in love with the youngest in the team?”

“No one...” Albert admitted, yet this time he did reach for his boyfriend’s hand. Taking a step closer, he leaned in until their noses touched gently. Hovering over Aegon’s lips, Albert licked his own. “I cannot know the future_ but what I do know is that right now_ inexperienced and horny and hormonal and whatever else I am at my sixteen_ I simply cannot imagine a day when I could love someone other than you.”

Aegon closed the short gap between their lips and wrapped his arms around his lover’s middle. They both moaned when their tongues tangled and their eyes got lost in each other. _They would be fine... _As the kiss deepened and Albert’s fingers curled in his hair, Aegon closed his eyes in pleasure. In contrast, the emeralds shone brighter_ for Albert never liked to close his. He loved watching his boyfriend’s sober features melting at pleasure’s mercy. Catching Aegon's tongue between his lips, Albert sucked on it knowing well enough that those brown eyes would twitch uncontrollably behind closed lids. They did, setting the younger’s man stomach alight with emotions. _They would never be not-fine, no matter what! _With a smile, Albert broke the kiss and wrapped his arms over his boyfriend’s shoulders, using the full advantage of his own height to pull the shorter man into a tight embrace. _I love you... _his green gaze compelled.

“Promise me, Al’...” Aegon begged calmly. “If the day will come when you will love someone else_ you will be honest with me and not cheat as my father did...”

The blonde man bit his lips. “I promise_” He whispered with a trembling voice. His entire being revolted at the mere proposition and his instinct told him to protest. _Nonsense, Aegon! This will never happen! There will never be anyone else but you! _And that was the truth! It was the truth for him_ and it would always remain so. The Maiden herself to descend among the puny living and there would still be no other for him but Aegon. Yet, in spite of what his instinct urged him to say, Albert understood deep in his gut that what the man he loved needed was for his fear to be taken seriously. “_and you?” Both ways.

“Swear it on my honour.” Aegon vowed. “I love you and I cannot imagine that changing either.”

Albert pressed another kiss on the only lips he'd ever know, then rested his forehead on Aegon’s. They both felt calmer_ the tension caused by the previous day's mistakes and revelations was now gone. The air was clear for the special day ahead. Albert swallowed deeply. “What do you say_ shall we leave your father’s large shadow behind us and go face my _sperm donor?” _Aegon nodded vigorously. “Alright then, I will look up his schedule as we walk.”

A wide smile graced the brunet’s lips, as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand and they resumed their walking. “No need, _beauty_. I have taken care of it_ it’s not as if I could have left this day at the mercy of your poor planning skills.” Albert rolled his eyes, yet chuckled. Deep down he had never doubted that Aegon had it all sorted. “Sam’s cousin Sam_ Samantha_ is a Lit student here. She sent me all we need_ your father’s lecturing schedule, his office hours and location, even his favourite campus cafeteria and the sofa he likes to hog in the Uni Library. We’re lucky he still has classes. The academic year structure in the Westerlands is different than in the North_ they have their examination diet after the holidays, not before as we have it. Anyway_ useless details_ but it means we’re just in time for some revision lectures.” Aegon took his phone out of the pocket to check the time. Albert smiled but said nothing to interrupt his boyfriend’s detailed report. The truth was that Aegon had great leadership skills. He loved taking initiative and hated leaving anything to chance. “We will no longer make it on time to his creative writing workshop, but we will make it to his Contemporary Literature lecture_ with spare time to grab a coffee beforehand.”

“Alright, boss_ we will do that. Thank you for making my life easier.” Albert gave his boyfriend’s hand a little squeeze.

“I do what I can, when I can_ but some things you have to do on your own.” Biting his lip, Aegon looked at Albert with his big brown eyes. “Today should be about you and your father_ it’s what you dreamt of. Nothing should cloud your day_ not our families' rivalry, not my parents' cheating, not even your mother's hurt feelings. Just as you said about my dad', let’s leave your mother’s shadow behind us too_ please, text Brie.” 

“And what would you have me text her?” The helplessness in Albert’s tone was transparent. “What could I possibly say to her? Apologising would be simply meaningless_ considering what I am just about to do, without her knowledge or consent.”

“Tell her that you love her_ that will always be pure truth, no matter the context. Tell her anything really_ what your troubled heart needs right now is for those hurtful words you’ve blurted yesterday to be righted with loving ones.”

Swallowing hard, Albert listened to Aegon's advice and slipped his free hand in his pocket to get his phone out. He took in a deep breath and stared at the blank screen. Holding onto his boyfriend's hand for dear life, the teen wrote and erased and wrote and erased his message until the University of Lannisport came in sight. They were there_ minutes away from meeting Jaime Lannister. His heart pumped to break his chest.

_I love you more than I love anyone else in the world... even though I sometimes utterly fail to prove it. You are my hero, Ma’… you will always be my true hero. _Sent. Received. Seen.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hope you have all enjoyed this chapter. If so (and even if not) drop me a comment to let me know. Xx_


	9. ALBERT IV - The story of Prince Albert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, the much much much waited for chapter in which Albert meets his father! I am incredibly excited to post it! I can barely contain myself, as it has been in the making for so long_ from before the world went nuts! Speaking of_ I hope you and your families are keeping well and safe! Sending you all my best!_   
  
_I would like to thank **merrymaya** and **JailynnW** for all their unconditional support. Ladies, you will both notice that I have faithfully incorporated in this chapter some of the ideas we talked about. Thank you for making my stories better. Love you lots!_   
  
_**Happy reading everyone!** Please let me know what you think of this chapter, as I will be eagerly waiting._   
_ **Xx** _

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Albert tied his hair in a low, very simple ponytail, which he let fall_ hidden out of sight_ down his back. A deep creed of his was that the golden mane was what made him look_ well, memorable. Without his waving locks flying in the wind and shining in the sun, he was rather dull, really. His mother and Aegon strongly disagreed_ but everybody knew they were heavily biased. A _stranger_ would not look at him twice. He was just an average teen. Jaime Lannister would never spot him sitting there, in the back of the lecture theatre, as long as the hair stayed out of the way!

His heart was beating to rip his chest apart, making it hard for him to breathe. The oxygen seemed to no longer find its way to his lungs. He was suffocating. Albert opened his mouth widely to inhale a generous gulp of air. He swallowed hard_ terrified_ eyes fixating on the closed door at the other end of the theatre. The man responsible for his existence_ the _stranger__ the_ sperm donor__ his fa– Albert blinked once. Then blinked again, pressing a hand on his stomach. His _father__ his father could step through that door at any moment. Any second now! The mere thought dried his throat and stirred his guts. Involuntarily, he gagged.

As if on a cue, a hand rested on his lower back and one on his leg, beneath the desk. “Easy… easy now…” Aegon sought to comfort him, but his boyfriend’s tender voice and unconditional support only made Albert feel more vulnerable. A knot formed in his throat and his chin trembled in spite of himself. That was it! He was going to break. He could not tear his eyes from the closed door and the suspense was becoming unbearable. He was going to burst into tears or throw up_ maybe even both.

Just as he was struggling to contain the insides of his stomach, a familiar buzzing sensation startled him out of his misery. Aegon took his hands away, giving his boyfriend the needed space and privacy to slip his fingers into his pocket and retrieve his phone. Absent-mindedly, Albert lit up the screen.

“Oh’ my!” His heart skipped a beat, as his eyes fell on the text he had sent half an hour before:

_“I love you more than I love anyone else in the world… even though I sometimes utterly fail to prove it. You are my hero, Ma’… you will always be my true hero.”__ now followed by words which made him want to run back home:

_“And I love you more than life itself, for you are my little baby boy. We are fine, love. Breathe. Don’t trouble your sweet heart for yesterday. We’ll talk it through. Now pay attention to class. You don’t want to miss something important.”_

His mother’s reply sent a warm wave of calmness through his body, curving the corners of his lips into a little smile. Before having the time to rationalise her words and fully comprehend their meaning, Aegon’s fingers wrapped around his wrist in such a strong grip that he nearly dropped his phone. “Albert…”

Electrified, Albert lifted his head from the screen and looked straight towards the door. Time slowed down voiding the world of any sound_ except the deafening beating of his heart.

He could not recall the day he asked about his father for the first time. It had happened at such a tender age, that the memory did not stick with him. Yet, he distinctively recalled what his mother told him_ for her answer had been perfectly good for him, for a long while: _“Some children do not have fathers, baby.”_ It was a simple reality. The fact that two of his nursery friends were in the same situation, made him raise no further questions. Complicated details of divorce and widowhood were unknown to a child’s mind_ some children did not have fathers and that was it.

The simplicity shattered soon after he started school. Children can be awfully mean sometimes_ particularly when their parents are no better. His mother had just published her second novel and her name was steadily becoming popular. Somehow that offended other mothers. And so a group of loud annoying girls cornered him in the schoolyard only to ask through hurtful giggles: _“Is it true you don’t know your daddy because your mommy is too ugly?”_ It shook him to his core. His mother was not ugly! She was the most beautiful! And some children did not have fathers_ he told both these to the girls, making them laugh even harder. _“All children have fathers, you silly!”_ Said one of them, but he shook his head pointing out to how Elise and Dario had no fathers either. More laughs. _“Elise’s father divorced her mom and went to Pentos with another woman and Dario’s dad drowned in the sea! And while we’re at it, silly, you cannot have two moms either! Marya’s curly mom is not her real mom, just a lesbin’ her real mom sins with! Any normal child has a mom and a dad! My mom said so and she knows everything! So where is yours?”_ He wanted to kick her in the shin, but his grandfather had been very clear that boys were not allowed to hit girls. So he did the only thing he could_ he ran out of there crying.

That evening at bedtime, Albert asked his mother whether what the girls had said was true. For a moment, he could see a glimpse of sadness in her ocean eyes, but then she nodded with a faint smile on her lips. _“In a way, they are right, baby…”_ She climbed in bed beside him, covering both their legs with the warm duvet. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed a long kiss on his golden locks. _“You know how some time ago we talked about babies and how they grow inside their mothers’ bellies?”_ Albert nodded. _“Well, there is a bit more to that story.”_ Tenderly, she tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. _“Women are made in such a way, that they can bring babies into the world. But, they cannot grow the babies inside them, unless men help them a little_ and this is where the girls from school are right. Every child in this world was made by a woman and a man_ but sometimes, it so happens, that not every child has a mother and a father.” _Looking at her with his big green eyes, Albert wondered on a fearful tone whether the man who had helped her make him died. _“No, baby… he did not die. I will tell you how it happened, if you wish…” _He nodded so desperately he felt nearly dizzy and his mother hugged him even tighter to her chest. _“We met at your godmother Marge’s birthday, the year I went to see her in Meereen. We talked a little bit and danced a little more and then we parted ways. But before he left, he helped me get you, as a gift_ the most wonderful gift I have ever received!” _Albert burst into joyful giggles: _“I bet godmother Marge was not at all happy that you got a better gift than her on her birthday!”_ That was what his innocent self got from that story.

And it was enough for a few good months_ until one day he dropped a little question. _“What is his name?”_ His mother had no answer for his query and he did not insist. Weeks passed. _“What was he doing in Meereen?”_ She bit her lips and lifted her shoulders. Another period of blessed silence. _“Was he also visiting a friend in Meereen?”_ Thinking back now, Albert realised how much simpler and easier it would have been for his mother to lie to all his questions_ yet she never did. _“Does he live in Meereen?”_ As time passed, the interval between his questions shortened. _“Is he Dothraki? Does he have a great khalasar?”_ While his mother’s discomfort with them only increased. _“Is he also a writer?”_ Her chin trembled and she had to close her eyes for a short second before guiltily looking at him. _“Oh, mommy, you don’t know this one either!” _Albert exhaled in childish disappointment and she was forced to admit that he was right. Absent-mindedly, he lifted his shoulders matter-of-factly and returned to his morning cereals and phone game, while she rushed out of the kitchen. When the screen went black and he went to ask her to unlock it, he caught his mother crying on the edge of her bed. It's how he learnt to keep quiet about his father.

After that incident, Albert refrained from asking any more questions for nearly a whole year_ until the last Feast Day of Our Father Above they spent on Tarth before moving to the capital. Sitting on the grass crossed-legged, with his two favourite knight-dolls in his hands, the dragon turned upside down in front of him and the saved damsel-doll in his lap, Albert glanced his mother’s way and bit his lips. Should he dare ask her? The question had been in his mind for a long while and it kept coming back to him every time he looked at her. In their beautiful garden, beneath his grandfather’s beloved magnolias, his mother was enjoying the holiday spirit and her afternoon coffee, browsing through an old photo album as he played his favourite game. Her blue eyes were without a doubt the most wonderful gems the world had ever created. And her smile made him happier than ice cream did_ happier than anything. She was a woman, but she was big and strong_ more like a knight than a damsel. And he loved that about her! He held back a sigh. Although he simply could not understand why some were frowning at his mother’s appearance, he was observant enough to realise he looked nothing like her. He was eight already, slender and taller than most boys his age. His nose was _‘small like a button’__ godmother Marge liked to say_ and his lips were thin and girly shaped. His eyes were a dazzling shade of green and his golden waves were now reaching past his shoulders. The girls who used to torment him in first grade were now his best friends, always ready to play with his hair_ and twice or thrice, until they said he was a _girl_ like them and made him furious, they even lend him princess dresses to join their tea parties.

_“How did he look like?”_ He dared, unable to help himself any longer.

His mother’s blue eyes shot up from the album. Paralysed, he let his green ones fall down_ avoiding her gaze. _“Like a shining knight… the sort you like to hear and watch stories about.”_ She said softly and the smile he felt in her tone gave him the courage to look at her again. _“He was very tall, almost as tall as grandpa and I. His arms were strong and his muscles really toned_ I could tell he enjoyed sports, maybe even something like… I don’t know_ sword-wielding.”_ She conceded and Albert gasped mesmerised. _“Yeah… and he had beautiful blond hair, long and silky.”_ Biting his lips, the boy held his breath. His mother smiled with infinite love and indulgence. _“And eyes as green as yours. The most handsome man you can imagine.”_ It was then that he asked her whether they could find a sword fighting club once they got to King’s Landing. Something in his request made his mother laugh hard. _“I am not sure they still have clubs like that in the capital. We might be a few centuries too late for it. But you could try something called ‘fencing’… it’s a sort of sword fighting.”_

Albert could not contain his excitement while joining his first fencing practice. King’s Landing was an utter nightmare and he missed Tarth, his grandfather and the sea with every fibre of his islander boy’s body. But all his sorrows were forgotten that day. Not only did he get to learn to play with a sword_ or _foil_, as his mom insisted the _sword_ was called_ but he also ran the tiny little chance of finding his _knight _father there! And he was_ almost_ not wrong. While standing impatiently beside his mother waiting for the induction class to start, the doors of the gym opened widely and for a moment Albert thought the miracle happened. A man stepped in_ the most handsome man he had ever seen_ very tall, with strong arms and visible body muscles, with long blond hair, half up in a bun and half let down on his broad shoulders. His little heart skipped a beat and he nearly screamed _“Mommy, it’s my father!”_ as the man walked towards the instructor. _“Good afternoon, I’m Rhaegar Targaryen” _– he introduced himself with a confident handshake. _“– and this is my son, Aegon.”_ Albert looked at _his_ father turning around to introduce said-Aegon, only to see that no one stood beside him. Frowning, the man glanced towards the door where a short, apathetic boy with dark curly-hair leaned on the frame with no will to move. Albert grimaced. How could _that_ be _his _father’s son? A grain of jealousy had been planted in his soul that day and_ even as the years passed and he grew to greatly dislike Rhaegar and love the _apathetic_ son_ Albert could never completely shake it off. Just as he could no longer dream of _handsome, tall, and blond strangers from Meereen_, without unwillingly picturing Rhaegar Targaryen in his mind. A shameful secret he had always kept entirely for himself. Life was so unfair! So unfair! Rhaegar was no fatherly figure to him_ he was, however, the man who had deliberately kept him away from his real father, in spite of having the power and knowledge to do otherwise!

As his life seemed to flash before his eyes, Albert blinked twice, forcing his mind back to the present. Rather confused, he looked around at the modern lecture amphitheatre he was in. _Was that truly happening?_ Was he truly at Lannisport University, where Jaime Lannister was placing a black-leather laptop bag on the front desk? It felt surreal. More than surreal_ it felt like the dream of a dream. Unsure of whether he was still breathing, Albert inhaled deeply, before slowly, slowly letting the air out through pursed lips. Maybe it was real.

Passing a hand through his hair_ which wasn’t anymore as long and blond as Brienne remembered it to be_ Jaime Lannister flipped his loose locks, letting his slender fingers comb them backwards. He lifted his head high to look at his students_ and smiled widely. Albert swallowed hard. The eyes_ at least_ were as green and bright as they’d been advertised.

“Well, good morning class! Happy to see the theatre so full for our final lecture. I am utterly flattered, as I know you are all here out of your immense love for me and my course_ and not because you assume I’d be giving hints regarding the final exam.” The smile turned into a devilish smirk as the students laughed. Albert did not. He shook his head in confusion, utterly dazzled by his father's presence.

Jaime Lannister was nothing like–– Albert paused in his trail of thoughts and blinked nervously, cursing his mind for the vile comparison, before sighing in defeat. Whether he wanted it or not, the truth remained unchanged. Jaime Lannister was nothing like Rhaegar Targaryen, the prophesied _handsome, tall, and blond stranger from Meereen_. Jaime Lannister was–– and yet again, he stopped surprised by a revelation. He was familiar! Very familiar! In fact, Jaime Lannister was _so shockingly familiar_ that_ without the old photographs found by Aegon_ seeing him for the first time would have surely caused Albert a heart attack!

_“Mama…”_ His mind echoed and he gasped so loudly Aegon shushed him. Albert bit his lips and covered his mouth with a hand. _Of course!_ There was no wonder his mother ran out of Tyrion Lannister’s house in a state of panic. Seeing the older version of your son in the shape of the man who had sired him, must have felt like a real-life worst nightmare. _Oh, Gods!_ They did look just the same, didn’t they? Behind the cover of his palm, Albert’s mouth fell wide open. That was his father right there! In front of him! His father! His own father! Not even a blind person could deny the uncanny resemblance. _The stranger_ was about as _strange_ as looking through a time mirror.

Skipping a joyful beat, his heart settled at last. Albert smiled without taking his eyes off his father_ _his father!__ even for a second. Carefully, he placed both his hands on the desk before him and straightened his back, assuming the role of a good student. And for minutes with no end, he ate his father’s_ _his father’s!__ every word. A dream come true!

Oh, he was good! So very good at what he did! His manner of explaining made intricate concepts and abstract ideas seem so simple, that Albert felt even _he_ could get an A+ at the final exam_ of a course he had not taken. The passion in his father’s tone was blowing the teen’s mind, making him fall in love with strange themes and books he had yet to read. _“Forget Night’s Watch University!” __ his mind screamed. He wanted to move to Lannisport and be his father’s student_ and maybe more.

As soon as his father wrapped up the mesmerising summary of his course, the floor was opened for questions_ and they came pouring in. Albert was so drawn by what was happening around him that he asked a girl in the row before them for a piece of paper and began taking avid notes. It all felt so wonderful that he forgot entirely about everything else. The world outside the room in which his father existed, had simply vanished.

“I have a question about a case study in the gender role debate_ Brienne Tarth’s _Prince Albert_ in _La Nymphe Europe_.” Albert’s eyes balled out as he shot his head up from his little piece of paper. He looked around trying to identify the bitch who had just ruined paradise for him. “I, unfortunately, could not attend the lecture on it and I am a little confused_ but the way I understood it is that you believe the author chose to down-rank the main male character in order to enhance Victoria’s position and reinforce the idea of matriarchy?” Albert shook his head baffled. What the actual_? 

“Indeed, that is correct.” Jaime Lannister nodded to Albert’s surprise. “The society created by Tarth in _La Nymphe Europe_ is an alternate reality of the Westerosi society of two centuries ago. This is why we have that overwhelming feeling of familiarity when we read her novels. Yet, at the same time, it is impossible not to notice the one great difference between the history of our continent-country and that of Europe_ namely, the leading role played by women in matters of politics and diplomacy. In order to strengthen the idea of matriarchy in Europe, the author symbolically sacrificed Albert_ the apparent main character of the first novel. Not only has Albert never been granted the title of _King_, but his death also represents the end of society as we know it and its feminine rebirth. It is a shout out for women’s rights and gender equality.”

“That is nonsense!” Albert blurted standing out. “Victorian Europe is as patriarchal a society as patriarchy gets! In fact, Albert remaining a _Prince Consort_ reinforces this idea.”

When Jaime Lannister’s emerald gaze met his, Albert held his breath_ petrified. Would he recognise him?

At first, the puzzled man narrowed his eyes, as if trying to identify who the rebelling student was. On his too familiar face, Albert saw that unmistakable expression anyone made when they recognised a person, yet had no idea where from. His father’s confusion lasted less than a full heartbeat. Then he gasped loudly and gripped his desk for dear life. All colour left his face and Albert genuinely worried he'd fall off his feet, collapsing in front of the whole class. Somehow, he did not. Yet the words _“Oh, Gods!”_ echoed throughout the lecture theatre prompting all heads to turn around and stare at him. Albert's cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Terrified, he pursed his lips together, as his father_ and a whole auditorium full of _other _strangers_ scanned him up and down.

Without a doubt, Jaime Lannister was well aware of who was standing in front of him. As it appeared, tying his hair in the back did Albert no good as long as he forgot his lips loose!

“Good gracious, Al’... sit back, just sit right back!” Aegon urged him with a desperate whisper. Without waiting for second invites, he obeyed.

“No, no, no…” Jaime Lannister protested loudly, all heads turning back to him. Clearing his throat, the man straightened his back, faking composure and nonchalance. “Stand back up and finish your thought, lad.”

Albert grimaced, biting his lower lip. He did not feel like standing up again_ as for his thought, well, that was long forgotten! Unsure of what to do, Albert glanced at Aegon for moral support only to find his boyfriend looking thoroughly dismayed. _“Aeg, do something..._” Albert begged through clenched teeth.

“Come on, don’t be shy. What is your name again?” Jaime Lannister insisted. _“Do it...”_ Aegon whispered in defeat.

Taking in a deep breath, he stood_ yet again_ exposed. “My name is… ahmm… is…” Rolling his eyes up, left, down and right, Albert tried to find_ somewhere in the back of his skull_ the best answer to the seemingly intricate question. “Selwyn!” He conceded. “My name is Selwyn… Storm.”

“Selwyn Storm? Right_ sounds about right. Well, I certainly do not remember seeing you in class before, _Selwyn_.” Jaime Lannister provoked.

“Yeah, well… ahmm…” Albert’s eyes fell on the bitch who had started it all and a devilish smirked curved his lips. “I too have been too lazy to come to class for some lectures… and I am confused about the whole gender debate.” The targeted girl clenched her jaws shooting him a poisonous look, while Aegon let his head fall in his palms, cursing his fate_ everyone else, even Jaime Lannister, laughed.

“Alright, _Selwyn__ I will let it slide this time. I am anyway not the type of lecturer obsessed with attendance. But I do want to hear why you believe styling Albert as _Prince Consort_ and Victoria as _Queen_ is a mark of patriarchal society. It makes no sense to me, for these particularities are crucial in drawing the readers’ attention to the importance of the feminine character’s status.”

Albert shook his head. “That is not at all it.” He said vehemently, rather surprised that Jaime Lannister did not understand his mother’s world too well. And to think he had spent nearly a whole hour thinking so highly of him as a literature lecturer! “The distinction made by my mo’...” Albert gulped, while the emerald eyes staring at him sparkled in delight at the near slip. Sneakily, Jaime Lannister subdued a smile. “...the author.” Albert corrected himself promptly, hoping no one else had sensed the hesitation.

“The distinction made by the author between the titles of _Prince Consort_ and _King_ is in fact not the author’s at all. It is simply the reality of any monarchical system. Just because in Westerosi history we have no example of a similar situation, does not mean these millenary laws are invalid. Within a patriarchal society’s hierarchy, King beats Queen! It’s actually quite simple. It is always the King who holds the highest position in the land. Yet, when the heir to the Throne is a woman, she is the one who is supposed to do so. A regnant queen is still styled as _Queen_. Her husband cannot be made _King_ without surpassing her_ the rightful ruling monarch_ in the hierarchy. Monarchical succession is all about heredity_ royal blood beats gender. Albert remaining _Prince Consort_ is not a shout out for women’s rights, but a reinforcement of patriarchal rules. Had her intention been to challenge gender roles, the author would have given us a _King Victoria_.” Albert cleared his voice looking at the stunned class. “Ahmm…” He mumbled uncomfortably. “That’s… that’s how I see it, at least.”

Jaime Lannister narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Hah...” He hummed, contemplating the teen’s words. Lifting a hand to his face, he rubbed his bristles. “Hm... hm... that's... that's interesting, I must admit, but_ alright! Alright_ let me ask something else. Would you argue that Tarth did _not_ kill Prince Albert on purpose, as a way to enhance Victoria’s role in the series?”

“No, she did kill him on purpose, but not to enhance Victoria's role.” Albert smiled. “In fact, I actually know that––” Biting his tongue abruptly, the boy stopped to consider whether he should spill 'inside knowledge'.

“What do you know?” The man before him asked, widening his eyes in excited expectation. Albert looked at him mesmerised. On second thoughts, there was no way he could resist showing off for his sire.

“I have actually read on a_ ahmm_ on a forum that the original idea of the series was having Albert front and centre. It is the reason why the first volume is called _Albertine Europe_. Apparently, ahmm_ _Tarth__” Gods, it felt weird calling his mother that! “_Tarth’s novel was rejected by a handful of publishing houses, which almost made her give up her dream of becoming a writer. It was then, in the 11th hour, that she understood she had to change the epilogue, in order to write a better story.”

The roles from the first half of the course seemed to have reversed. Now it was his father’s turn to look at him in utter fascination. The man’s entire attention was on him, observing every gesture, carefully listening to every word. The class might have been full of students, but it was only the two of them in the entire world! And he loved it! He loved it so much he pressed forward with no sign of hesitation: “What she wanted was to have this perfect unit_ Victoria and Albert_ working hand in hand to build their country, raise their family and change the world for the better. They complimented each other like two halves of a whole. Together, they were complete.”

Albert smiled remembering the many evenings and lazy weekends he had spent dissecting _La Nymphe Europe_ with his mother. He adored the world she had created! He felt deeply for her characters and considered them like siblings he grew up with. He knew much of her creative process_ so many background details and, _oh!_ so delicious spoilers. The series had no bigger fan than him! No one loved _La Nymphe Europe_ more than he did_ not even Brienne Tarth.

“But Europe with Victoria and Albert together would have been nothing more than an enchanted forest_ reality is not a fairy tale with happily-ever-afters. Something that not many people know is that _Albert_ is her favourite character...” He confessed, fighting the urge to press a hand on his chest, as his heart started beating faster. Just thinking about _Prince Albert_ made him feel warm and loved. “I heard her say in an interview, that she is actually not much amused whenever fans assume she favours Victoria_ for Albert owns her heart.” Jaime Lannister chuckled and so did he. “Even the name gives her away. In the ancient dialect spoken on the Isle of Tarth, before the Andals’ arrival, _‘adal’_ meant _‘noble’_ and _‘beraht’_ meant _‘bright’__ which makes _Albert_ the ‘bright and noble one’. He is the first character she has ever created, right after she finished high school and many years before her first novel was written. For her, he is the personification of the perfect man. He is dutiful to a fault, intelligent above margins, sensitive, romantic and very loving with his family.” He knew that with certainty, for her mother had named him Albert in the hope he would strive to be all that.

“Oh, but I do know Albert is her favourite_ and I always insist on my _Nymphe_ lectures on how his character is surrounded by an aura of sanctity. I do not contest what you said, not even for a second. Yet, I think you are a bit too young to fully grasp how a character like Albert is more spirit than flesh.” Jaime Lannister leaned onto the edge of his desk, not taking his eyes off the younger version of himself. “Surprisingly enough_ particularly to myself_ your very precise explanation concerning ranks and titles has utterly shattered my deeply ingrained belief that Tarth brought Albert a disservice by not styling him as _king._ I actually cannot believe I am even saying this, for I have been very vocal in my opinion that we should have had _Albert_ as _King_. But here we are_ bravo! I will grade your seminar presentation with an A+ for this little speech alone.” Jaime smirked, and Albert clenched his fist in victory, proud of himself and momentarily oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t actually be graded on that course.

“But you are still not quite there in understanding the deeper layers and more mature aspects of Tarth’s thinking. The first novel gives us an illusion of life_ the fairy tale you mentioned yourself. But real life starts where fantasy ends. Albert is not real_ nor is that _Albertine Europe_ we see in the first volume. He is a spectre following the heroine throughout her life, casting its aura of _‘what if-s’ _over the reality of a highly _Victorian Europe._ The world we experience over the twelve volumes is not Albert's world at all, but _hers!_ Faced with his death, Victoria had no choice but to be reborn as the matriarch. I am not for a moment saying she wanted that fate, I am not claiming she liked it_ but it is what she got! Life without the fairy tale forced her to assume the role of mother and father to her family, forced her to do alone what she and her husband had started together. Albert might have been the perfect man_ the personification of everything one wished in a male partner_ but she never had him! So if Albert was the missing piece in securing Victoria’s _victoria__ she had to clench her teeth and be _Albert _for herself.”

Albert blinked several times as his mouth fell wide open. “Oh, wow!” He exclaimed staring at Jaime as if an entirely new meaning of the world had been revealed to him.

“Do you agree with these ideas? Would you say you’d ponder on them a little? See if you can come to understand what I mean?” Jaime Lannister asked with a satisfied smile, utterly oblivious to just how much _his son_ actually understood.

_Prince Albert_ was his father! _His father_ had always been Prince Albert_ always there with him, with them, never far from his mother’s thoughts. That _handsome, tall and blond stranger from Meereen_ had been filled with the essence of his sweet mother’s ideal partner. That ‘perfect man’ she never had the chance to raise a family with. She had never lied to her son regarding how little she knew about his father_ she had never tried to make him up out of something he was not, not wishing to deceive and pain him with stories that were most likely untrue... Yet, she had not shown herself the same courtesy. Word after word, page after page, year after year_ she had dreamt of him, willingly allowing him to cast his shadow of _‘what if-s’_ over her life.

Albert looked Jaime Lannister up and down, taking a new measure of him_ the real one.

_Prince Albert_ was there in flesh and blood and true name. “I will ponder on every word you said, sir.” Albert promised, keeping the undertone of threat for himself. Jaime Lannister had better be as perfect as his mother dreamt_ or help him, Gods, if he ever hurt her!

“Perfect!” The man said clasping his hands together. To Albert’s surprise, he seemed blissfully unaware of the epiphany he had caused. _“Oh, wow...”__ the boy thought to himself in amusement. All mighty _Prince Albert_ surely could ramble on about author and characters, but he could not put one and one together and add himself up in the equation!

“I would say we had a great debate_ really entertaining! Good summary of the course, we cleared out a lot of questions_ all good. So, let’s just wrap here.” Jaime blurted, touching the screen of his phone to check the time. He grimaced. Albert checked the time too_ they still had a good half hour left form that two-hours lecture. “Eh!” The man exclaimed impatiently. “Send me emails if you have further doubts. You’re dismissed! Good luck on the exam and happy holidays!”

_That was it!_ Melting off his feet, Albert sat back down beside Aegon. _It was time!__ time to go meet his father. The commotion caused by dozens of students packing their bags was deafening. Albert felt his body going numb. All that courage he had somehow mustered during the lecture, had now drained from his blood. He did not even dare to glance towards the front of the theatre to scrutinise his father’s reaction.

Silence fell way sooner than his coward heart would have hoped. Looking down at his hands, Albert found them trembling uncontrollably. He would not be able to do it! What was he thinking going there like that? He could not do it! He could not! He _would_ not!

“Come...” Aegon whispered faintly, standing up and nudging him to do the same. At first, he did not move. “Al’, please...” His boyfriend begged and his legs seemed unable to refuse such pleas.

Step by step and hand in hand, the two boys walked from the back of the auditorium down towards the speaker’s desk_ where the older man stood tall, waiting for them. Stopping at a polite_ _safe!__ distance, Aegon let go of his hand and Albert needed all his will-power not to yelp helplessly at the loss of support.

“Hm…” His sire cleared his throat to capture his attention. In spite of himself, the education his mother has carefully provided simply forced Albert to look up and acknowledge the man before him. As their green gazes met, their eyes widened and their lips parted ever so slowly in perfectly twin reactions. “Hi…” They whispered together. Yet, whereas the older man smiled, the teen remained petrified.

“I am Jaime Lannister.” The _stranger_ introduced himself at last, putting his right hand forward. “It seems that I am your...”

“Albert Tarth!” He screeched, feeling a sudden desperate urge to stop _the word_ from leaving Jaime’s lips. “And, yes... it seems that you are.” He added nervously.

“Well, won’t you shake your father’s hand, Albert?”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hope you have all enjoyed this chapter! If so (and even if not) drop me a comment to let me know. Xx_


	10. RHAEGAR I - The favourite parent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, how much I wanted to post this chapter! It introduces a new voice into our story. Hope you will all like the sound of it_ I know I do._   
  
_Happy belated birthday **JailynnW**! I know how much you love this man_ I'll go as far as to say he might be your favourite character in the story_ so I really wanted to give you a gift within gift. But as you know, my house's still upside down so writing was slow. Better latte than no coffee, right? or was it better late than never? Thank you and our dear **merrymaya** for your eternal support!_   
  
_**Happy reading everyone!** Please let me know what you think of this chapter, as I will be eagerly waiting._   
_Xx_

[](https://imgur.com/IwNAyiz)

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The warm afternoon light flooded the glass office situated at the top of the Targaryen Tower. More often than not, Rhaegar hated being in there with every fibre of his body. Three out of the four walls surrounding him were, in fact, endless windows. The glass ceiling was not making matters better at all. It made him feel exposed_ quite worse than naked. Alas, there was nothing he could do about it_ or rather nothing he _would_ do. He had inherited the office_ and the multimillions gold-dragon corporation that was to be run from up there_ upon his mother’s death, 25 years earlier. And his mother had simply adored it, for it used to be her safe heaven_ her very own happy place.

_‘Don’t you just love the view from up here, Rhaegie dear? You can see the whole of King’s Landing living its course, down there, at a safe distance.’ _She mentioned one day, a large smile on her lips. He nodded without contradicting her_ for, truthfully, she was not quite right. The one wall that was as opaque as walls should be served as a shield, purposefully parting the top floor into the CEO’s north-western wing and the south-eastern quarters of her VPs. In reality, one could not see _‘the whole of King’s Landing’_ from Rhaella’s glass office. From no corner of that uncomfortable aquarium was the Red Keep in sight. The fortress Rhaella had been forced to call _home_ her entire married life was the very opposite of her _happy place_. And just like King’s Landing _‘living its course, down there’_, his mother needed to know the Presidential Castle_ and in particular the man who had been occupying it for far too long_ were _‘at a safe distance’_. 

“I do see your point_” Rhaegar nodded trying hard to hide his exasperation. Not only had the meeting dragged on for too many hours, but the event they were struggling to organise was one bound to flare up deeply buried emotions. “_However__ and I cannot stress this enough_ your vision is not at all in line with my mother’s style.”

“It is, _however_, very much in line with the company’s style, Mr Targaryen.” His dark-haired interlocutor maintained her stance, poorly veiling her annoyance with a honey-sweet tone.

“Ms Martell_” Rhaegar hissed through clenched teeth, before faking a polite smile. The ever gracious Dornish convention planner reciprocated, fluttering her arched eyelashes twice. Rhaegar sighed. They could not be more different. Nothing about their tastes or personalities mixed and matched. And yet, somehow, their collaboration simply worked. In all honestly, it worked so well that he could not remember a time when Elia Martell was not in charge of coordinating the production of every single Dragon Luxury Wheels event. Elia had never failed him, nor had she failed the company. Elia always knew best_ and yet, this particular time, she did not know better than him.

“This exhibition is not about the bloody company_ it is a tribute to my mother! The way you envision it might be very _us_, but it’s not at all _her!”_ Elia Martell might have been in the company from before his father’s downfall, but she had never met his mother.

Quick to sense his growing discomfort, she sighed and pressed her lips together, lowering her guard. “With all due respect, Mr Targaryen–” She added as softly as one could. “–but I honestly do not believe you understand what my _real_ point is.” Standing from her seat at the large oval table which reigned supreme in the middle of the office, she walked towards the smart board beside it. _“Hey, Ella!”_ The sensors around the room blinked in response. The ever vigilant AI was listening carefully, waiting for commands. “Access Elia Martell’s computer, folder _Rhaella underscore 25_ and play the_”

“Elia, I have seen the event simulation! I have the prints of it right here_” Rhaegar said picking up the pages in front of him and fluttering them in the air. “It does not work the way you want it to. I will have you know that my mother was so much more than an eccentric businesswoman drawing cars and modelling engines in her glass tower. She had a life outside this company.”

“Your mother _was_ the company, Rhaegar!” Elia blurted sharply. “You cannot separate the two without stripping them both of their very essence. I will be blunt if you force me to! What you seem to want is a sort of family remembrance day and we cannot have that without hurting not only DLW’s image, but also your mother’s.”

“Why exactly?” His patience was wearing thin.

Elia looked at the men around the oval table. All five of them let their heads down at once, avoiding looking at their boss. Rhaegar frowned and Elia shook her head as if saying they were all a bunch of cowards. “Rhaegar, we cannot have this event resemble a family commemoration because_” Biting her lips, she looked at him with deep sympathy. “_because your family is also Aerys Targaryen and, right now, with the reopening of his case and the reigniting of the scandal, it is in the company’s utmost interest to dissociate ourselves from_” A frantic and loud knock on the door prompted Elia to stop mid-sentence and turn her head towards the noise. Rhaegar did not move, but looked at her without blinking. The knocking persisted. Elia shifted on her heels uncomfortably, while all other men exchanged anxious looks.

Then the knocking stopped and Rhaegar blinked. “Dissociate what? _My_ company from _my_ name?” Elia opened her mouth to say something, but the knocking resumed even louder. Rhaegar rolled his eyes and growled loudly. “Just come in already, Myles!” He hissed as the young PA sneaked in and looked at the man he worshipped with a guilty smile.

“Real sorry, boss_ I do know better than disturbing you in the middle of a board meeting, but Ms Tarth is literally blowing up your phone.” Lifting the device to where Rhaegar could see it, the sassy assistant grimace as if to make a point. “You’ve got about 23 missed phone calls from her and 12 texts_ all in less than 20 minutes. Now’s she’s phoned here and I have her on the line. She insists that you should take her call right away. She’s angry and very_ very_ scary. What should I tell her?”

Rhaegar frowned, tilting his head in confusion. It was unlike Brienne to behave like that unless_ _Oh, fuck! _He cursed under his breath. Just what he needed! “Give me my phone.” _unless it was about her pest of a son.

Standing from the oval table, Rhaegar met his PA halfway. “Thank you, Myles. I will keep the phone here for now.” He turned and took a couple of steps towards the windows overseeing the Great Sept of Baelor and the main building of the King’s Landing University_ the two landmarks his father had nearly succeeded in whipping off the face of the continent. _Elia was right again, gods’damnit!_ “Myles–” Rhaegar called for the young man just as he was opening the door to leave. “Have some food ordered and sent here. It is two hours and a half past noon already and we have been too busy for lunch.”

He dialled Brienne’s number and walked towards the windows to look at King’s Landing _‘living its course, down there, at a safe distance’_. How he missed his mother! It was hardly fair that his psychopath father got to ruin yet another day for her. It seemed rather unfortunate that the poor woman could not catch a break from him even beyond the threshold. And all because that dim-witted Viserys, with his stubborn insistences and no clue about what had really happened all those years back sought fit to– “Oh, hello Brienne! My apologies for not responding sooner. I was rather caught up in a meeting and lost track of time. Is everything alright?”

_The doctor assured him the fever would drop within an hour and while that had truly been the case, Aegon was still in a deplorable state, coughing his little lungs out and crying curled up in his bed. Looking at him through the cracked door, Rhaegar felt helpless_ worse than that, he felt like he was already failing at being a father. On all Seven Gods! What had he been thinking taking the boy from his mother the way he did? Just then, Aegon whimpered and called out for her. Rhaegar squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He could not stand his sons’ cries. Instinctively he let his hand slip into his pocket to retrieve his phone._

_Lyanna was not a perfect mother_ but so what? That did not make her a bad mother. The fact that his ten years old son, flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood, was more Ned Stark than any of Stark’s kids was not necessarily Lyanna’s fault. His son adored, worshipped his mother! And he had taken him away from her. For six months Aegon had been in his custody and it was plain as daylight that his son hated being with him! They were making no progresses in terms of bonding. Why was he even trying? Living with his uncle and seeing Lyanna even for two hours at the end of each day seemed to make his son happier than having him as full time father._

_Defeated, Rhaegar lit up the screen of his phone. He was determined to suck up his pride and call the mother of his child with the tail between his legs, when a post-it note on his screen caught his attention. ‘Fencing PT meeting – Ab Tarth kicked Ag again’. In spite of himself, Rhaegar rolled his eyes in disdain. The Lannister traits were strong in that one. It was utterly fascinating how the child seemed to have not inherited a grain of his mother’s irreproachable manner. What a woman she was! Raising a child by herself all while managing to write and publish best-selling novels for four consecutive years. So it was possible to have a glowing career and spend more than two hours a day with your son! Lyanna must have missed the memo._

_Rhaegar shook his head, willing the bitterness away. Lyanna had had her chance and blew it. It was his time to be a parent for their son! And a feverish delirious cry for mama would not make him give up. He would eventually do right by his son_ but for now he needed some help._

_Without thinking, he dialled her number. “Ms Tarth? Good evening. This is Rhaegar Targaryen. I hope I am not disturbing terribly.”_

_“Oh, good evening. No worries at all– is everything alright, Mr Targaryen? Please tell me Albert has not kicked your son again.”_

_“Nothing of the sort, Ms Tarth.” Rhaegar lied politely. “I– ahm– well, the truth is that I am in terrible need of some parenting advice and, given our children’s little conflict, you are in fairness the parent I have most interacted with. I did not know who else to go to_ I hope this is not inappropriate.”_

_“Oh!” She gasped in surprise at the other end of the line. “It’s not inappropriate at all, Mr Targaryen. Children are an entirely different species – I think it’s actually recommended for us adults to exchange notes. I hope I will be able to help.”_

_“That is very kind of you, Ms Tarth.” Rhaegar smiled sadly to himself, walking away from his son’s cracked door. The boy overhearing that conversation was the last thing their relationship needed. “I appreciate it greatly_ for today, I have to admit, was quite challenging and draining in more ways than one.” Entering his study, Rhaegar closed his door and leaned on it. “Well, ahm, Aegon came to live with me only recently_ and there are many situations I am still new to. This is one of them. He started feeling under the weather yesterday and this morning I had to keep him home from school as he woke up with a slight fever and an ugly cough. The doctor visited twice today, so I got the medical part perfectly covered_ I just cannot seem to be able to make him – ahm – not cry for his mother.”_

_As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Rhaegar closed his eyes and pressed a hand on his forehead. On second thoughts, maybe he shouldn’t have phoned a stranger to make a fool of himself with his failings as a parent!_

_“I see…” Brienne Tarth hummed softly. “I am sorry to hear the poor soul is unwell. I am sure he will get better soon, but for now his distress in understandable. Children become very needy and dependent when sick. They realise something is wrong with their little bodies and they get scared. Having a parent near them is comforting and it reassures them they will be safe. I gather it is unpleasant, but you should not take it personally that Aegon calls for his mother. It’s what he was used to and you should be patient and give him the time to adjust to the change. Of course, that is not to say you should let him cry himself to sleep, nor that you should emulate what his mother did in these situations. You have to provide your son with the comfort he yearns for, but you should do it in your own way.”_

_Rhaegar sighed. “I am not sure I have a way…” A chuckle came as response. “Sad_ I know_ but it is the truth.”_

_“I highly doubt it. But let me tell you a trick you can employ whenever in doubt: think with your childhood mind. You were a child once, we all were. At some point you definitely had your favourite toy broken, your bicycle stolen, or a boo-boo of a sort or another. Dive into those memories and try to bring the feelings you had then back to the surface, in order to use them and find some of the answers you seek_ works for writing and parenting alike.” He could practically hear her smile, so he smiled too. “Tell me, what did little Rhaegar Targaryen need when he had a fever?”_

_Rhaegar’s smiled turned into a sad grimace. “His mother… always his mother.”_

_“What would she do to make you feel better?” She inquired timidly. _

_“Well, my favourite thing was that she would always allow me to sleep with her. She would make melted chocolate ice cream in a bowl and I could eat it in bed, while she told me stories about our family, especially about her grandfather_ who designed and built the first airplane. The first man to fly since the dragonriders, she said. I found her stories fascinating.”_

_“Wouldn’t Aegon too?” And Rhaegar smiled wholeheartedly._

_“I have not thought of trying before_ I surely will now. Thank you, Ms Tarth. I am truly grateful for your support. Please, I hope you’ll allow me to buy you a coffee during the children’s practice next week.”_

_“Coffee sounds great_ maybe we can figure together what to do to get the children to at least tolerate each other.”_

_“Well–” In spite of himself, a devilish smirk curved his lips. “You were a child once.” He imitated her. “At some point you definitely had another kid step on your nerves. What did little Brienne Tarth do in that situation?”_

_He did not expect her to burst into laughter. “Unfortunately, up until tenish, she used to kick, hit and punch the offending child_ and, believe me, there were plenty of them.”_

_“Oh, Seven! The apple does not fall far from the tree, does it? Your son is_ what?_ eight, right? So, should I expect him to aggress mine for at least two more years?” She laughed apologetically. It was a beautiful sound and she was, without a doubt, a great woman. Only the Gods knew why she had had the misfortune of stumbling upon the shipwreck of Jaime Lannister in Essos. Alas, they all had their mistakes to bear… and maybe it was not the worst idea to keep a discrete eye on the little lion._

And keep an eye he did_ a much closer eye than he would have ever wanted. For not even in his wildest nightmares could his mind have conjured a scenario in which his son would not only befriend the golden-haired little pest, but fall in love with him! He should have walked away from Albert and his mother when he had the chance– when he was told to, begged to do it. He should have known better! He should have guessed the Gods were after him for what he and Lyanna had done to Cersei. Alas, it was now eight years too late.

“Hi, Rhaegar_ sorry, I know you are busy. And yes, everything is fin–” Brienne groaned at the other end of the line. The eight years in which they had been single parents together cemented a deep friendship. So he knew everything was _not_ fine. “Actually it’s really not!” She conceded as if on a cue. “I have had the worst three weeks. My nerves are stretched to their limits and I simply cannot catch a break! New issues keep popping up before I even had the chance to deal with the previous ones_ the latest instalment? Not having the faintest idea where my son is. I have just ended a delightful phone conversation with Principal Qyburn, in which I was asked why Albert failed to attend school these past two days. How would I know the answer to that question? I dropped him there yesterday and haven’t seen him since! Do _you_ know where they are?– because I am sure Aegon cannot be too far away.”

“Wait a second– what?” He asked raising an eyebrow. “Aegon said you would be home_ it’s why I agreed to him sleeping over there during a school night. Were we not strict about stuff like this?”

“What are you talking about?” Brienne inquired on a painfully high pitched tone. “Albert told me the ‘sleeping over’ would be done at your place!”

“Well, I have not seen your son in four days_ and I have not seen mine since breakfast yesterday morning.” He regretted the bluntness of his words immediately. Hearing them, Brienne let out a desperate yelp. “Hey– hey– don’t do that! Please. Try to remain calm. Have you tried calling him?” His inner voice scoffed in response. _Not that it would be much of a help__ Rhaegar thought to himself as his most recent conversation with Aegon played out in his mind. Mere hours earlier his son had outright lied to him by saying he was _‘walking Albert to class’_.

“What do you think, Rhaegar? Of course I have tried calling– but his phone is turned off! And so is Aegon’s! They quite obviously do not want to be reached_ oh, dear Gods!” Brienne seemed on the verge of losing her grip_ which nearly never happened_ so he shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Quite rapidly, worry filled him too. Yet he strove to maintain his rationality. There had to be an explanation. “What if they ran away? What if they are eloping?” _Not that explanation!_

“Brienne, dear–’ He said softly, trying to reason with her, all while keeping his voice down to avoid prying ears. “Albert is underage. Eloping is legally out of question. And why would they need to do that anyway? We have always been more than understanding with them.”

“That is not true– not true. It is entirely my fault!” She whispered painfully. “Lately, I have been anything but understanding! You know Albert is not handling the long distance all that well and I was too busy working out copyright deals for Nymphe and writing the new volume_ I have neglected him! I have dismissed his distress and his feelings and yesterday… yesterday…” Her voice sounded choked as she tried to bite back her tears.

Rhaegar sighed. _Well, of course she’d blame herself!_ What he liked most about Brienne Tarth was how she put her son before anything else. Incidentally_ every so often_ it was also what he disliked most about Brienne Tarth! Someone should have sat her down and told her_ gently, as not to trigger the mama bear within_ that she had exceeded the recommended age for weaning one’s cub with approximately 15 years.

“Look, dear, I am not one to gratuitously defend the boys. I am more conservative. Unlike you, I am not their _pal_ and I do not plan on ever being their pal_ but your son adores you. Give him some credit. There is nothing in the world you could have said to make Albert abandon you. True_ there is plenty you could have said to make him lash out. He runs on emotions, he is very exuberant and impulsive, but his tantrums never last all that long. And besides, you know Aegon is–” _Oh, fuck! _His mind cursed. “Oh, fuck!” He voiced it out loud and groaned. “Listen_ thinking of it, I might have a hunch about who’s to blame. Will you excuse me two moments, please?”

On the other end of the line, Brienne mumbled a weak _‘sure’_. He knew she could use a moment too. Still holding his phone to the ear, Rhaegar turned away from the windows and walked towards the oval table where everyone was politely keeping busy. “Elia, gentlemen– on second thoughts, let’s wrap up the meeting for today. I need to ponder upon what’s been implied with regards to my father and I will revisit Elia’s event simulation later on this afternoon.” On a cue, all laptop flaps were let down, scattered papers were piled up and shoved in briefcases, chairs were pushed back and one by one everyone stood up. “Thank you for today and I do apologise for letting the meeting drag on_ again_ and for making you skip lunch_ again. Myles is fixing that! Just tell him to have the food taken to one of the conference rooms and I’ll join you there.”

While the others left his office, Rhaegar walked with heavy steps, and a heart that matched them, towards his desk. “Alright– now we can speak more freely.” He said lowering himself on his red and black leather office chair. 

“Rhaegar, I am so sorry for interrupting your work.” Brienne sighed, but at least she sounded more composed.

“Nonsense– everyone here knows that my son comes before anything else. And if I am being honest, your call couldn’t have come at a better time. I had a clench with Elia and I was on the verge of lashing out_ it would have been the fourth scene this month.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway– regarding the boys, what I had started to say was that while Albert is more free spirited and inclined to commit excesses of spontaneity, Aegon is not. He can be infuriatingly like me in this regard_ he needs to plan out everything in advance, he needs to have back up alternatives, he needs to be in control. If my son’s phone is turned off too, it means he threw all that off the window, abandoning all semblance of common sense and decency_ that only ever happens in one situation: whenever the _‘favourite parent’ trademark_ hops in town proposing they did something _fun _and_ special _together!” Rhaegar bit the inside of his cheek._ He’s like me, alright! _He thought bitterly to himself. For wasn’t that exactly what he had so often done? Had he not betrayed all those closest to him? Cheated on his fiancé? Caused a scandal? Brought about the downfall of his own father? The disgrace of his own family? All for a few special moments with Lyanna Stark. His son was just like him– he could not resist her either.

“Oh, Rhaegar, she’s not the favourite par–” Brienne pitied him softly.

“It’s quite alright.” He interrupted her attempt at polite intervention. “I’ve made my peace with this reality and I don’t even mind it. I just wished Lyanna wouldn’t abuse her charms in such a vile way and I wish she’d at least let _your_ son be.”

“I am so sorry_ I did honestly believe that since Aegon is of age now and she has actually managed to convince him to move to the edge of the world just to be in the same state as her_ she’d just let _you_ be. As for Albert’s poor judgement_ hardly Lyanna’s fault. That kid would do anything for love!” Rhaegar bit his lips not to snarl for all he was worth. He would never cease being shocked by how much Albert was just like Jaime. “I thought it was _cute _in the beginning, but it is turning into a rather big issue. Since Aegon left for University, Albert pestered me relentlessly to transfer him to whatever boarding school in the North– but you know this, I’ve told you. Yesterday he chose a really bad time to insist again on the matter and I snapped at him_ I mean, I know I shouldn’t have, but his reaction was vicious. I could not believe my ears at the words he threw at me…” She swallowed back a whimper. “Rhaegar, I am sorry to even ask you this_ but, please, could you call Lyanna? Or would you mind me calling her? I need to know where my son is.”

Rhaegar smiled. He had fully expected her to say something like that_ quite frankly it was part of why he had cut his meeting short. “I don’t mind either way– but I do have something much better in mind.” He cleared his voice and added lowly: “Wouldn’t it be interesting if we simply appeared uninvited wherever they are? I am quite sure it would not only ruin their fun, but also put them all to shame.”

“It would surely be– ahm– _something_, but we cannot know where they are unless we get in touch with Lyanna– and that would ruin the element of surprise.” Brienne said unconvinced.

“What if I had ways of locating the boys, without alerting Lyanna?” _How?_ She whispered barely audibly. “Rather unorthodoxly– but highly accurate.”

He could hear her taking in a deep breath and exhaling loudly. “You know what?” She hissed through gritted teeth. “I have done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment from my son! Had he asked nicely enough, I might have even allowed him to skip a couple of days of school and go have fun with his boyfriend and the best parent in town_ it’s the end of the semester anyway. But no– he chose to go behind my back! He was obnoxious, and rude, and lied to my face! Then sent me what I can brand only as an emotional-blackmailing-awfully-insincere apologetic text. Screw it! I know he’s a teenager and his hormones are all over the place, but I am still his mother_ and maybe, as you say, I’ve been too much a _pal_ to him and Aegon. Go ahead, let’s do it your way. By this point, I think I am past orthodox!”

“That’s the spirit!” Rhaegar grinned. “I’ll put you on speaker, so you can hear too.” He did that, placing the phone on his desk and facing the wide screen of his computer. _“Hey, Ella!”_ The screen before him lit up. “Initialise the DLW surveillance protocols, CEO privileges.”

_‘Identification required.’_ His mother’s voice announced warmly, while the retinal scan programme appeared on the screen. Rhaegar looked straight into the camera for his eyes to be scanned. _‘Identity confirmed – Rhaegar Targaryen, CEO Dragon Luxury Wheels. Privileges granted.’_

“Ella, locate Rhaegal.”

_‘Locating Rhaegal…’ _Repeated softly the voice he loved so dearly.

“Every DLW produced after the implementation of our AI can be traced and tracked in real time–” Rhaegar felt the need to explain himself. “It is, first and foremost, an antitheft system. Ella grants every owner bespoke access to their own car, as well as the electronic remote control of said car. It’s also very useful for evidence in all sorts of incidents and accidents and–” He bit his lip. _Stalking – _but that was an unfortunate corollary. “Anyway_ as CEO, I do have full control over Ella and, in consequence, access to everything she knows.”

“_Unorthodox_ might have been too mild a term. Remind me not to buy a car from you.” Brienne laughed.

“It is perfectly legal, my dear. The clients are aware we have back up access to their vehicles_ or at least they should be aware, after all they do sign their consent for it when they purchase the–”

_‘Rhaegal successfully located.’_ His mother’s voice interrupted him and Rhaegar looked up at the map on his screem. _‘Slot A66, underground parking, Tyrell Rose Hotel, Lannisport, the Westerlands.’_

Brienne gasped loudly. He gasped, as his blood turned to ice. Lannisport? That could not be right! Lyanna would never set foot in that place. “Ella, locate Rhaegal’s remote control.”

_‘Locating Rhaegal’s remote control…’_

“Rhaegar…” Brienne sounded breathless. “I don’t think it is Lyanna…”

Trying hard to control his breathing as not to give himself away, Rhaegar placed his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead in his palms. He did not think it was Lyanna either– scratch that! He _knew_ it was not Lyanna! Brienne mumbled something he could not comprehend, while his life began to flash before his eyes_ every bad decision, every poor judgement, every mistake that led up to that dreadful reality: his son was in the lions’ den. 

_‘Rhaegal’s remote control successfully located.’_ He lifted his head and looked fearfully at the screen. _‘Building B3, Lannisport University, Lannisport, the Westerlands.’_

“Why?” Rhaegar growled desperately, unable to hold inside the mounting frustration. Brienne sighed in defeat.

“I know why…” She whispered weakly, not understanding that his howl to the skies was as rhetorical as it got. “It’s just as you said– they went to have fun with the _‘favourite parent’ trademark__ only not Aegon’s, but my son’s.” There was so much pain in her voice that it felt palpable. His heart skipped a painful beat for her. Sighing, Rhaegar rubbed his face with his palms, before pressing his fingers to his temples.

“I don’t understand– how?” He mumbled staring blankly and helplessly at the green circle which blinked in defiance where building B3 of the Lannisport University was. _‘She will murder me…’_ His mind echoed. _‘She will murder me with her own hands.’_

“Albert’s father…” Brienne sounded just as shocked and desperate as he felt. “I cannot believe Albert went there alone! I cannot believe he did this...” A loud yelp escaped her lips. “I meant to tell you, but we were both so busy...” Her voice was breaking fast and he could hear her struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears. “Three weeks ago, I went to meet…” Her composure collapsed. “I cannot– please, forgive me. I need a moment. I’ll call you back, so sorry…” And with that she hung up on him.

He could not even move, still trying to assimilate the news. Long minutes passed by with Rhaegar staring at the screen, thinking his options through. No matter how he turned and spun the problem, in every scenario he had to tell _her_ the truth. There was no way out.

With a deep sigh, he stood from his comfy chair and went to his private cabinet to pour himself a glass of whiskey. Without hesitation, he downed it in one go and filled it up again. This time, he walked back to his desk. Reaching for his phone with one hand, he brought the glass to his lips with the other. Unwillingly, he dialled her number and took a sip.

Rhaegar let the phone ring… once… twice… praying she wouldn’t pick up… three times… four…

“Well, well, well! Hello to you, father of my child.” Lyanna chirped joyfully as ever and his heart skipped a beat._ Gods, she was going to get so mad._ “What a delightful surprise. I suppose you have missed me terribly_ haven’t you, my dear?” Biting his tongue to hold in a growl, Rhaegar rolled his eyes at her_ _oh! so amusing and original!__ jest. One thing he had never been able to understand was how she always managed to take everything so lightly in life. The sun seemed to be relentlessly smiling on her street. Next to nothing fazed her_ but he knew better. The Seven Hells had no fury like Lyanna Stark on a bad day_ which this was bound to become. “Hit me with your best shot, but be quick_ I just got up in the saddle for training, before practice.” She laughed at herself without a care in the world. “Is it important?”

“Would I ever call you if it weren’t important, Lyanna?” He unwittingly replied, unable to contain himself at her cheeky demeanour. As soon as the words were out he regretted them dearly_ for she chuckled flirtatiously, and he knew all too well what she was about to bring up_ what she _always_ sought opportunities to bring up.

“Flattered to hear that you believe it was truly _important_ to call me, shit-faced drunk, just to describe all the ways in which you’d fuck me, if I were in the capital…” He clenched his teeth in annoyance. _Gods, how he hated his life!_ How he hated every single stupid mistake he had done for, with, and because of Lyanna Stark. She was a siren of doom and nothing less!

“Fascinating how you seem to hold so dearly onto that unfortunate slip which happened_ what, now?_ six years ago? Seven?” Yet again unwittingly, he chose to fight back. “Friendly advice, _mother of my child__ when you’ve got the time to get off your high horse, just take a moment to analyse which of us this little story paints in a rather desperate light.”

“What do you want, Rhaegar?” Lyanna hissed threateningly and he sighed, cursing himself. Going at her throat in a moment when they needed to play as a team for the wellbeing of their son, had undoubtedly not been his best move.

“Ly’, I am sorry. I had a difficult day and I am on the edge– I did not mean to insult you in any way. Please, let’s just talk…” Downing his second drink, Rhaegar placed the glass on his desk, but chose to stand. “I need you to call Aegon to Winterfell, quite immediately.” He looked at the map on his screen a last time, then turned away. “I believe it is best for him not to be around Albert for a while.”

“Something I’ve been preaching to deaf ears, ever since Aeg’ met that boy.” In spite of his prompt apology, Lyanna seemed not eager to yield. “Any particular reason why you have finally come to your senses?”

“You know what, Ly’?” He was too tired to even try to appease her. He had gotten too quickly on her bad side and there was no returning from that. “There is nothing I can say to soften the blow, so I hope you’re well saddled.” His steps seemed to have taken him to the windows facing Rhaenys’s Hill. Looking pointedly towards the North, Rhaegar braced himself and let it out in one breath: “The lion is out of the bag– the Tarths know the truth about Albert’s parentage. Creating a little diversion, the boys took matters into their own hands, took the car and drove to Lannisport to meet Jaime Lannister. To my knowledge, our son is with him right now.”

Might have been his imagination, but, in that moment, he could have sworn a blast of wind from the North made his windows tremble for all they were worth. Rhaegar took a step back. Biting his lower lip, he held his breath and awaited the impact. Nothing.

Second after second ticked by in painfully slow motion, yet no reply came from the other end of the line. A few minutes passed in agonising expectation, until he could no longer stand the dreadfully uncomfortable silence. “Lyanna…” Rhaegar whispered and the winds of winter broke loose.

“_My_ son was safe with me! _My_ son was happy with me!– and you took him away.” It was not the first time she voiced her accusations, yet every renewed round hurt more than the previous one. “His life was quiet here, and peaceful, and free! He had a smile on his face from dawn to dusk! He had his cousins and his dogs and horses! But that was not good enough for you– nothing ever is!” With every word the bitterness of her tone turned colder. He swallowed hard, knowing he could not stop her. “You think yourself better than anyone else! But you are so narrow-minded, so stuck in your idiotic ways_ you cannot conceive a life that is not scheduled to the minute. You could never understand that a healthy upbringing is so much more than school and after-school and after-after-school and fencing practice and Valyrian classes and fucking music lessons he hates! You always thought you had to keep him on a leash, to monitor his every move, every breath he took, relentlessly on his back pushing him in a direction he did not want to go! You used every mean at your disposal, to take _my baby_ away! You accused me of never being there for him. I was there, Rhaegar! I was there just enough! I was there when he needed me, for as long as he needed me! I was there when it mattered! Unlike you, I believe in letting children be– I believe in giving them the space to discover who and what they are. I never neglected him! I just know my child in ways you never will. After all this time you still entertain the illusion that Aegon is like you? He is _nothing_ like you, Rhaegar_ nothing! He is a Northman and you should have fucking let him be a Northman! You crushed his spirit and broke his soul! How can you expect him to love you and thank you for it?”

Rhaegar hissed threateningly. His blood was boiling, every vein in his body pulsating from tension. _‘I was there just enough!’ _Deluded selfish bitch– his mind raged. Eighteen years and she was still unable to comprehend their son deserved so much more than _just enough_. He deserved so much more than being left to his own devices to ‘discover himself’, wasting away his time and potential. So much more than being raised by that Tully hypocrite, who never even pretended to see Aegon as anything other than an unwelcomed addition to her precious family. His son was a Targaryen, for Gods sake! Descendent of the Dragon dynasty who had ruled Westeros for hundreds of years! His destiny was to be at the top of the world, not in the shadows of the arrogant Rob Stark. Rhaegar had not once spoken a foul word of the Starks before his son, although he was damn sure they had never granted him the same grace. Lyanna’s words had gotten to him like never before, and enough was enough! He was ready to spit all of her and her family’s shortcomings right back, but she did not give him the chance.

“When you told me about that bloody kid, I begged you–” This time her voice came out deeper, as if the weight of what she had said earlier drained her forces. “I begged you, Rhaegar_ I begged you to move Aegon to a different sports club and a different school. Not only did you not listen to me, but I believe a part of you thoroughly rejoiced at my desperation!”

“Lyanna…” Rhaegar hissed.

“Do not fucking _Lyanna_ me, Rhaegar!” She howled in all the might of a direwolf, sending shivers down his spine. In spite of himself, Rhaegar passed his tongue over his lips. “The Lannisters_ all of them without exception_ hate us with everything they are! And yet, to this day, you cannot bring yourself to admit that they are and will always be the enemy!” _There they went again…_ He closed his eyes, grimacing. “They are fucked up! Cersei stalked and harassed me for months with no end– her creepy vintage bimbo-friend was in the shadows of anywhere I went! I kept on telling you the evil princess and her mean girls were after me! I kept on telling you Cersei knew about us, you said it was impossible – but the threats started piling up. You never heeded my cries of warning, because she always played so nicely with you. You were so deluded, so naïve to think she loved you truly_ never believing she was only playing a part_ the role of her _wanna-be_ actress life! She was nothing but obsessed with your name, your money, your power! She never cared…”

“I know, Ly’…” He whispered, hoping she would spare him the agony of hearing her out again.

“You know nothing, Rhaegar!” She spat at him with renewed anger. “And after the damned accident, her father sought to deliver on all those threats by sending his enormous bodyguard to shoot the horse underneath me in the hope that I would at least lose my baby if not break my neck!– or what? Have you forgotten why we had to run off to Dorne? Have you forgotten why I was forced to hide in a damned tower for months? Why I was entirely alone in a Gods’ forgotten hospital of a small town when our baby was born? Have you, Rhaegar?”

“I have not– so let’s not do this, it’s unnecessary.” He pleaded.

“It was because of Jaime fucking Lannister!” Rhaegar rolled his eyes and settled for keeping his mouth shut. There was no stopping her until she finished letting it all out. “I had next to no support, or love during my pregnancy because Jaime Lannister was digging your family’s grave! Because Jaime Lannister was undermining your political career, all while stabbing your father in the back and attacking your mother’s legacy! He killed our love one blow at a time. He is a psychopath who has always harboured an unhealthy obsession for his own fucking sister! And when she was no more there to sooth his aching desires, those simmering incestuous feelings erupted more violently than the volcanoes which doomed Valyria!” There was nothing but pure hatred in her tone, no tremble, no hesitation_ but Rhaegar knew she was crying. “I have never in my life heard of a more vengeful and vicious man! A monster if I ever knew any! He sought to systematically ruin your life, leaving no aspect of it untouched. He wanted to see you worse than dead, Rhaeg’– and when in his stupidity and greed he screwed up his own vengeance by throwing dirt at his own father’s company, what did you do? Nothing! You did nothing at all! You had the chance to ruin the Lannisters, to take everything from them and throw them all behind bars, where they should be right beside your father! And you let that chance slip through your fingers!”

Lyanna swallowed hard and let a little chuckle escape her lips. “You are a hypocrite, my dear… You always blamed me for our demise, but you never sought to understand just how much you had turned my life upside down, just how terrified and horrified I was by the turn of events after Cersei’s accident. I was too young to know how to support you through the shit-storm stirred by Jaime Lannister! You are not unlike your dear old friend_ you are bitter and vengeful too. You took Aegon away solely to punish me for my one big sin_ for having sided with my brother in a political race you had no chance of winning because the Lannisters had made sure of it.”

Rhaegar sighed at her unfair insinuations, although he could not say he was surprised by them. Deep down he had always suspected Lyanna believed he had sought to use Aegon as a pawn in their break up_ in their _divorce_, to call it as it was, although the word still made him sick. But she was wrong in her creeds! Aegon was the most important piece of his existence. All he had ever wanted was to give his son his best shot in life_ and that was not with her. 

“You know what, Rhaegar?” She resumed, clinging onto her prejudices. “You are right– perfect and always right– I sided with Ned and Robert in the elections! I was terrified, nineteen, with a new-born in my arms. I needed my brother to restore order in a world that was falling apart. I needed my brother’s protection, because I could not count on yours_ for you were too busy protecting the enemy. I chose my brother over you, because you chose _your brother_ over me.”

“Never say that again!” Rhaegar felt his pulse accelerating and his throat drying out. “Jaime is not my brother and I did not choose–”

“I begged you to keep my son away from that psychopath’s bastard…” She whispered weakly, interrupting him again. “I begged you, Rhaeg’. I knew that sooner or later something like this would happen– I dreaded it. But you simply could not resist the opportunity of taking care of _his_ child even if it came at the expense of _my_ child’s safety. Lie to yourself all you want. Deep in your heart you love that little troublemaker just as much as you still love his father.”

“Don’t be absurd, Lyanna!” He growled threateningly.

“I’m not the absurd one here.” Lyanna hissed reignited. “Listen carefully, Targaryen: I do not want my son anywhere near that man! If Jaime Lannister touches a single curl on Aegon’s hair, I will tramp him with my horse and then I will come after you and kill you with my bare hands_ so help me Gods! You have made my life nothing but miserable since the day I met you.”

“You haven’t made mine very happy either…” The lie was bitter on his tongue, but she deserved nothing better. “Hate me all you want, Stark, just call our son and spin whatever story you know will make him want to take the first plane to Winterfell and be with you. And keep him there at all costs until I assess whether the Lannisters have buried the hatchet or whether we should prepare for round two.”

_“We?”_ Lyanna asked bursting into laughter and he cursed under his breath.

“No, Lyanna– not _we._” Rhaegar hissed through clenched teeth. “Thank you for pointing it out. There is no _‘we’_ left, nor will it ever be again. I meant to say _‘I’_– whether _I _should prepare for round two, while you run to dear old Ned for cover.”

“Go fuck yourself, Rhaegar!”

“I’ll go do just that, don’t you worry for me. In the meantime, be a good mother for once in your life– call our son and get him up there!” Without another word, he hung up on her.

Closing his eyes, Rhaegar leaned ever closer to the windows, until his forehead touched the cold glass. His life was such a mess! Nearly twenty years of sadness and regret had passed him by. He was exhausted– tired of paying the consequences of falling out of love with a woman and in love with another, tired of self-punishments, tired of relentless work, of worries over worries over worries, tired of not allowing himself any pleasures…

He missed enjoying being alive for himself, and not only for Aegon and the company. He missed smiling with more than just his lips, he missed feeling warmth and affection, he missed feeling appreciated, he missed being understood and not eternally judged…

Rhaegar opened his eyes and looked down at King’s Landing. His sweet mother had been right– the city looked harmless from up there, friendly even... and friendly was what he yearned for.

“Hm…” He bit his lips, as a desired he had long abandoned made its way back to life, settling somewhere in the pits of his stomach. _What if..._– his mind challenged, and without thinking twice, Rhaegar looked at the phone in his hand and dialled _her_ number. She answered right away.

“I was just calling you too.” Her voice seemed calmer.

“Well, they do say great minds think alike.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I am not feeling worse– so there’s that.”

“I have an idea–” Rhaegar blurted, sounding as casual as he could. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? You know that negative emotions have a tendency of becoming overwhelming after sunset. There is no need for you to be alone. We can get some seafood from that place you like and I will open my best wine– or _s_… wines? One, two, three bottles– why not. What do you say?”

“Hmmm…” Brienne Tarth hummed softly. “I say three bottles might be a bit too much, but I am up for two.”

A cheeky smile curved his lips. _Selfish_… a trait many associated with him, although he had truly been selfish only once in his life. Seeing how pathetic his life had turned out to be, maybe he ought to have been selfish more often. Alas, it was not too late to live up to his reputation.

“Sounds perfect, dear. I’ll come pick you after six, when I finish at the office.”

++++++++++++++++++++

[](https://imgur.com/IwNAyiz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _#TeamRhaegar? #TeamLyanna? #TeamWhatTheHellIsHappening?_   
  
_I hope you have all enjoyed this chapter! If so (and even if not) drop me a comment to let me know. Xx_


	11. ALBERT V - Like lion, like cub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The hour is here... Albert is face to face with his father! I cannot wait to see how you'll all feel about this chapter._   
  
_ **Happy reading** _   
_ **Xx** _

++++++++++++++++++++

_previously..._

“I am Jaime Lannister.” The _stranger_ introduced himself at last, putting his right hand forward. “It seems that I am your…”

“Albert Tarth!” The boy screeched, feeling a sudden desperate urge to stop _the word_ from leaving Jaime Lannister’s lips. “And, yes… it seems that you are.” He added nervously.

“Well, won’t you shake _your father’s_ hand, Albert?”

++++++++++++++++++++

_The word_ hit him with all the force of a Stormlands storm, knocking the air out of him. Albert blinked rapidly several times, while all other muscles in his body refused to move.

_Your father…_ _your father’s hand…_ echoed in his mind rendering him numb.

_His father… his father’s hand…_ and Albert’s restless green eyes fell on it inquisitively. Offering him the chance to take control, _his father _held his hand with the palm facing upwards_ encouragingly. Yet, the younger man remained inelegantly still. To his credit, _his father _kept the hand in question quite steady, waiting patiently for Albert to react. _Quite steady__ quite_ for the longer the boy stared at it without batting an eyelash, the more _his father’s_ resolve seemed to shudder and a slight tremor made his elongated fingers quiver.

As the awkwardness of the situation was becoming unbearable, _his father_ shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other, before starting to pull his hand back.

That was what it took.

The gesture startled Albert right out of his trance-like state. Quick and precise like a feline on attack, the boy caught Jaime Lannister’s hand before the man could fully let it down. Tightening his grasp with no trace of reservation, Albert flung his emerald eyes up at last, seeking those of _his father_. Green met green, blazing like wildfire and betraying more emotions than one cared to count. _His father_ was the one to smile first– a wide, genuine smile which curved his lips from ear to ear, lifting his cheekbones high and furrowing a charming dimple on his right cheek. _Gods, his father was a beautiful man!_ Albert caught himself thinking_ and then he smiled cheekily to himself, dismissing the rather narcissistic thought. It was insane how much alike their appearances were!

“I am–” _His father_ looked at him and bit his lower lip, shaking his head befuddled. Their right hands were still joint in a firm grip, but the older man also lifted his left, fondly resting it on Albert’s shoulder. The boy swallowed nervously, as his heart jumped up in his throat. Without turning this head at all, the young green eyes looked sideways just in time to see how the fingers on his shoulder curled over his flesh. _His father_ gave his arm such a healthy squeeze that Albert was sure he would later bruise. “Wow…” The exclamation was low and weak, but it still prompted the boy to lift his gaze and look _his father_ in the eyes once again.

_‘Wow indeed…’ _Echoed through Albert’s head. _His father _was right there in front of him! _His father_ was shaking his hand! _His father_ was touching him as if to make sure the boy before him was real. Albert gulped, unable to stop thinking about it. _His father_ was right there in front of him… and he looked sincerely ecstatic. Those green eyes that Albert knew so well, for he had seen them in mirrors countless times before, were bright as summer-light and sparkling with emotion. He felt like melting off his feet. Slowly, the dense fog which had possessed his mind for weeks began to lift under his father’s warm gaze. His doubts dimmed. His anxieties faded. His deepest fears got cut at their root, losing all foundation.

_His father_ was right there in front of him and whatever their relationship would grow to be, one thing was as sure as day following night: Jaime Lannister– the stranger from Meereen, the sperm donor– _his father! his very own father!_– wanted to get to know him. And that was everything Albert had hoped– wished for. So, he smiled. And he smiled widely!

“Oh, Seven Heavens! When my brother told me about you–” Jaime chuckled letting go of him. He looked the boy up and down at least three times, before throwing both his hands up in disbelief. “When my brother told me– I did believe there could be a possibility that I had a son in Essos– but what I really did not buy were Tyrion’s exaggerations regarding–” His father looked him up and down again, gesturing his eyes’ motion with one hand as if too dumbstruck to voice his thoughts out loud. “Wow! I mean– Gods! I mean– really! Look at you!” Jaime Lannister guffawed– loudly and fully. “My father– your grandfather– would get _at least_ twenty years younger, just by looking at you. I hope with all my heart– and for so many reasons– that you inherited your mother’s character, because in looks_ my Gods’, you are textbook Lannister!”

Albert felt his cheeks burning– a trait he had definitely inherited from his mother– yet he found it in himself to smile cockily. On a whim, he passed a hand through his hair and slowly pulled at the bobble holding his locks tied. Shaking his head, the long golden mane came cascading down his shoulders. “Thank you for the hair– might be the best feature in the Lannister textbook.”

His father grimaced, tilting his head slightly to the right and narrowing his eyes. There was smugness in the man’s smile, but his voice came out raspy, like a low purr. “Oh, Seven Hells, why did you have to say something like that? Now I dread you’re also ticking some of our personality trait boxes.” He sighed, defeated. “That’s a shame…”

Beside him, Aegon bit his lips to muffle a giggle. Albert rolled his eyes with a pout, elbowing his boyfriend. “_Shush’_, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

His father smiled indulgently at them both, before turning his attention towards the other boy. “I am terribly sorry if I have just caused you problems. Jaime Lannister.” The man put his hand forward and Aegon responded in kind with no hesitation.

“No worries, sir. I know how to tread carefully in dangerous situations.” Aegon smiled and Albert did not miss the double meaning of his words. “I am Jon Snow.”

“Snow– a Northern.” His father nodded letting go of Aegon’s hand. “Whereabouts in the North?”

“The capital, sir.”

“That’s lovely. I have been to Winterfell once– 19? 20 years ago?” Jaime Lannister frowned trying to remember. “I loved the newer parts of the city, particularly the central neighbourhoods with their late monarchical period architecture. It is simply beautiful– although I have to admit I did not care much for the medieval citadel. I find it rather daunting.”

Albert nodded strongly in approval. “Yes! I think the same! The old castle’s terrifying and the crypts are the worst part! We visited them with_” Albert looked at Aegon and then back at his father. “_with _Jon_ and his cousins two years ago. Have you seen them? With all those statues of dead Starks and their dead wolves?”

“No, I have not seen them.” His father shook his head. “I did not have the time to explore the city all that much. We were there for barely two days– it was just my best friend and I. His company was the main sponsor of the World Polo Championship held that year and he was supposed to award the winning team.”

Albert barely refrained from anxiously biting his lip as Aegon tensed beside him. Although they lacked significantly more pieces of the puzzle than they held, the boys were no fools. The_ best friend _doing the sponsorship was undoubtedly Rhaegar Targaryen_ and a World Polo Championship held 19-20 years ago was not hard to place in time for those in the know– 20. It had been _20 years_ ago, in the year 1000_ the year of the Millennium. Celebrations and competitions of all sorts had been held throughout the 12 Moons, the polo championship being one of them. The grand finale was played in the 11th Moon, on the Sword Day of the Warrior, the shortest day of the year. The boys knew that_ for it was the day Aegon’s parents met.

“So, we took my car–” His father continued blissfully unaware of what went through the teens’ heads. “–and drove all the way from Lannisport to Winterfell. It was meant to be a fun getaway, but in truth, it was a nightmare_ as my friend relentlessly complained about how he did not want to give his money to the Dothraki_ because you know, the Dothraki traditionally win at polo.” He smiled and the boys felt compelled to follow suit in spite of their growing uneasiness.

Something felt strange– oddly in contradiction to what they knew. Where was the discord? Where were the resentments? In one short minute, Jaime Lannister had called Rhaegar Targaryen his _‘friend’_ twice_ and it surely did not escape their sons’ notice. If anything, it made them more restless to stir the conversation into less dangerous waters, before they drowned in secrets that were not theirs to tend to.

“Do you have any idea how it is to drive for hundreds and hundreds of miles with someone whining with their every second breath?”

“Yes…” Aegon whispered with a faint nod. “As of yesterday, I unfortunately do, sir.” His father laughed and shook his head incredulously in Albert’s direction. “So… did they? Did the Dothraki win?” Aegon ventured to Albert’s dread. And what for, if not trouble? For they both knew the answer to the unwise question. Not only did they like sports in general, but polo they _had_ to like! Albert tried not to growl in annoyance_ it appeared he stood alone in the wish to keep their heads above the waves.

“The male team did win, yes_ the Knights of the Vale stood no chance, which was a shame as they have always been my favourite team. But the Khaleesis of the Green Grass Sea lost to the Ice Maidens_ it was a phenomenal match really. The Ice Maidens had been strong throughout the championship, but they used the momentum of the Grand Finale to unveil their prized new asset– Lyanna Stark.” And there it was– the fire of hatred! At the mentioning of Lyanna’s name, Jaime Lannister rolled his eyes in such disdain that Albert gulped, too craven and half ashamed to even throw a glance Aegon’s way. “I have no sympathy for the woman–” His father hissed and Albert felt like reaching for his boyfriend’s hand. “–but I guess it is fair to say that the she-wolf made the Khaleesis eat mud quite single-handedly. All men present in the arena that day, felt their hearts beating for her and her alone_ some more desperately than others.”

“Oh, yes, yes…” Albert intervened before more could be said. “Lyanna Stark– we’ve heard of her.” He finally looked at Aegon to see his reaction, but his face betrayed no emotion_ not even to Albert’s knowing eyes. Rhaegar had trained him well… and yet Albert knew his boyfriend’s heart. Giving into the need of comforting the one he loved, Albert’s fingers curled around Aegon’s and his voice came out soft and appreciative. “Quite the sportswoman, she had a brilliant career… a shame that she is retiring this year, so there’s that.” The boy added in one breath, desperately willing to bring the topic to an end before it was too late.

“To be honest, my interest in sports in general and polo _in particular_ came to an abrupt end when_” Jaime Lannister’s eyes fell to his shoes and he seemed to be struggling to remain neutral. “_when I matured.” He wrapped up with a painful smile. “Anyway, would you boys want to go grab a coffee? And then maybe talk more privately in my office_ as another class is about to start here?” All too eager to swim on, now they both agreed.

The sun and the sea breeze were beyond soothing. Coffees in hand, Jaime Lannister walked them around the campus, speaking vividly and proudly of the institution he worked for. _The Lannisport University is one of the oldest universities in the country, second only to the Citadel_– his father told them. _It is believed to be the legacy of our very family. Legend says it was a Lannister Lord who commissioned the first classes. It all happened in the dark ages of our past, in the aftermath of the so-called War Against the Dead_ so the sources are scarce. But it appears that our forefather employed a handful of Grand Maesters from the Citadel and entrusted them with the task of teaching others how to teach the children of the Westernlands to read and write and do basic calculations. The other Kingdoms followed suit only a generation later, when they finally saw the benefits of literacy. _Albert watched him mesmerised, his heart filled with joy he could barely contain every time his father spoke of him as if he were already a part of the family.

The stories went on and on, his father having something to say about each and every building they passed by_ about its history, or architectural style, or functionality, or a famous name that had once graduated from there. Unable to tear his eyes off the man beside him, Albert absorbed his every word with boundless fascination, never once letting go of Aegon’s hand.

In the end, the seemingly short walk from the cafeteria towards Building B3, where his father’s office was, took nearly an entire hour and a private tour of the Lannisport University. But eventually, they found themselves standing before a dark grey door on which the words _‘JAIME LANNISTER’ _were written in bold capital letters, followed by the smaller ‘_Faculty of Arts and Humanities – Lecturer of Westerosi Literature and Creative Writing’._ Albert bit his lips in a mixture of nervousness and eager anticipation, waiting for his father to unlock his den and invite them in. He did.

The room was by no means large, but it surely seemed so, as it was blindingly white and abundantly showered in daylight. His father’s desk was facing the door, having a wall of glass behind it, with a wonderful view of the Sunset Sea. Golden curtains fell from the ceiling, but they were safely tided to the side as not to obstruct the generous windows. Before the desk were three plump chairs of white velvet, each with its own golden cushion. The walls were covered in white bookcases filled from bottom to the top. Albert looked around, taking it all in and letting the feeling of surprising familiarity sink. It was strange, but his father’s office reminded him so much of Rhaegar’s at the top of the Targaryen Tower. The style, the elegance, the tidiness, the white– it all looked so similar to what Rhaegar– _his father’s friend _Rhaegar– liked. There was a difference though: whereas Rhaegar’s office had elements of black and red, his father’s had golden details scattered around.

“Please, feel welcomed to sit.” His father urged them with a smile, before walking around to take his own seat. Albert looked at Aegon, who nodded reassuringly with a little smile. “Would you like some water?” The boys shook their heads as they sat beside each other. “Alright_ some chocolate then? Some jellies?” The man offered rather anxiously, putting in front of them two crystal bowls of sweets.

“I’m good…” Albert whispered, then looked sideways to his boyfriend and smiled. “But Ae…” He snorted rapidly turning his slip into a giggle. “_Jon_ is genetically unable to say no to sugar.”

Jaime Lannister laughed as Aegon rolled his eyes. “Please, help yourself to as many as you want. I actually have more in my drawer. Students tend to be very sensitive to negative feedback and I have been thoroughly trained to recoil at the sight of tears.”

“Thank you, sir.” Aegon smiled politely, reaching for the little chocolate balls and taking three. For too long a second, Jaime Lannister contemplated the son of his _friend _with narrowed eyes. It was almost as if he _knew_ something. But then he shook his head and turned his attention back on Albert.

Their eyes met across the desk and they both held their breaths. Once again, silence fell between father and son. They had walked to that office to talk _more privately_, yet now the prospect felt terrifying. It was one thing to chat about the University and even touch on memories more significant that met the eye_ but it was an entirely different story to dive into a more personal conversation. And so long moments passed by with Aegon struggling to chew his chocolate with as little sound as possible, utterly mortified to be adding to the awkwardness of the situation. None dared to speak.

“I might need a couple of those too…” The older man blurted at a long last and swiftly stretched a hand to grab some chocolates. Albert followed suit, taking a handful of jelly bears and stuffing them in his mouth.

“I am meeting new students every semester–” His father said after he swallowed his sweets with such a big gulp he nearly choked. Albert looked at him still chewing on his gummies. “I am not unfamiliar with ways of getting acquainted with young people_ and yet, for the life of me, I don’t know where and how to start with you…” He smiled sadly. “Help me out, _son_, tell me something about yourself…”

The address dazed him so, that it was Albert’s turn to choke on his sweets_ and choke he did. “I don’t know what to say.” The boy said breathlessly, coughing loudly.

“Are you alright?” His father asked with a worried frown, while Aegon slapped his back several times to help him clear his windpipe. In spite of nodding, it took Albert a while to calm down. When he did, trails of tears stained his cheeks and he was burning red_ more from embarrassment, than from the lack of air.

Without saying another word, his father stood from his chair and walked pointedly to a little cupboard at the base of his nearest bookcase. Taking a glass from there, he poured _his son_ some water. “Here you go.” The man said in a tender tone, placing the glass on the desk and walking back to his seat. “Please excuse me for daring, I did not mean to overstep.”

“No, you did not…” The boy whispered reaching for the water and taking a few small sips. “I was just…” _Taken by surprise. Overwhelmed. I… I got scared…_ but that was too deeply true. “Some children have no father… my mother once told me and that has always been my life. I might have dreamt of it, but I have certainly never expected to hear _my father_ calling me _son__ ever_ and now you are here and I am here and everything is happening so fast…” 

His father nodded in understanding. “Then let us take it slowly… and build up from there. I will call you _Albert_, and you can call me _Jaime__ and if, or _when_, the time feels right, we can decide if there is a place for more. Would that be fine by you?” The sadness in his father’s– _Jaime’s_ tone was not missed on Albert and that made his heart skip a painful beat. And yet, not diving all in and all at once was probably for the best for starters_ so the boy nodded with a shy smile. “Perfect– so, now tell me something about yourself, _Albert_.”

“Ahmm…” Biting his lower lip and troubling it a little, Albert grimaced unsure of what to say. _My name is Albert Selwyn Tarth. My mother is Brienne Tarth. I was born on the Isle of Tarth. I went to kindergarten on the Isle of Tarth, I started school on the Isle of Tarth… I love my island so much and with all my heart! I sometimes wish we had never left it, for it is simply beautiful and the sea there is the purest shade of blue_ just like my mother’s eyes. _Albert blinked and pushed the image of his mother away from his mind, afraid it would pull him into a web of sadness and well-deserved feeling of wretched guilt. “I am a single child!” He blurted instead.

Jaime burst into laughter, throwing his head back and placing a hand on his stomach. Albert looked at him confused at first, then he too started laughing. “Well, thank you– that’s strangely reassuring. I appreciate it– but for instance, tell when were you born? I would love to know your nameday.”

Albert looked at Jaime and his little heart skipped a beat. Many a year he had wondered whether his father would have cared_ whether his father would have sent him a sign on those special days the Gods had deemed as his, on those special days when he was celebrating being alive, growing older and stronger. His lips curved into a smile that only widened. His nameday_ _that_ _was the first thing his father wanted to know. It was a small, rather ordinary remark and yet it held in itself such precious answer: his father did care.

“The 24th day of the 4th moon.” The boy answered, the smile not leaving his face. “How about yours?”

“The 27th of the 7th.”

“Oh, that’s so cool– just like my godmother Marge!” The words were barely off his lips, when Albert gasped loudly, eyes popping wide. “Ow! Owww… oowwww…” Swiftly he turned his head and looked at Aegon. Their eyes met knowingly, but the older boy shook his head ever so softly and mouthed a cautious _‘chill’_ towards him.

“What’s the matter?” Jaime inquired with a frown.

“Nothing.” Like a broken toy, Albert shook his head multiple times. Aegon sighed helplessly. “Really nothing.”

“It does not seem like nothing– but I will not push you. I just want you to know that, as long as you want it, you can tell me whatever comes to your mind.” The hint of hurt in the man’s tone was faint, yet Albert knew those green eyes well enough to spot it in there. Jaime seemed no fool– he understood all too well that whatever it was the boys did not say, was about him. 

Rather ashamed, Albert put his head down. “I tend to speak without myself– my tongue is often sharper, or at least quicker, than my mind. I wish to tell you and ask you so much about it, but that would mean I would be the one overstepping… and we just settled for taking it slowly.”

“Albert, look at me…” His father said in a low, serious tone. The boy obliged. “You can set whatever pace of discussion you feel comfortable with– whenever you feel comfortable with. Please, not for one moment worry for me. I have thought about _my son_ for less than a week, whereas you have had years to think about _your father_. I am sure you have bottled up a lot during this time. Let it all flow in the manner you see fit– in the manner you feel! Albert, if one moment you feel the need to be angry at me for my absence and the next you just want to know my favourite colour– then do that! All I want, Albert dear, is for you to be yourself– don’t hold back on account of my feelings.”

Albert nodded feeling a wave of heat passing through his body. “I did that– feel anger, I mean. Sometimes a lot of it. Sometimes often. And it is true– I did think of you much, much more than I care to admit_ although I hid it well, afraid I’d make my mother sad. But I could not let go of the thought of you for I obsess over things, over people– I am an obsessive person– another Lannister personality trait, I presume, for my mother and grandfather are not like this.” With the corner of his eye, he saw his boyfriend looking down and troubling his lip rather nervously. Aegon never liked it when he acted on the impulse of emotions_ and Albert knew that all too well. “I did not have much to stand on.” He tried to sound less bitter, for Aegon. “As much as she wished to be always honest with me, Ma’ lacked answers when it came to you. She could not tell me your name, she could not tell me of your hobbies, nor what you did for a living– she simply did not know. But two things she did know, and she knew well – how you looked like and how the two of you met.” As their gazes locked again, Jaime swallowed, looking remorseful. “–and you met on my godmother Marge’s 20th birthday, the 27th of the 7th, 1003.”

At an utter loss for words, Jaime only reached for more sweets. Albert let his eyes drift around the room, trying to calm the whirlwind in his head. It was not to be– for just when he nearly succeeded, his emerald gaze fell on _La Nymphe Europe_, all 12 volumes neatly lined up– front and centre– on the middle shelf of Jaime’s main bookcase.

“First edition…” Albert whispered almost to himself.

“Pardon?” Jaime replied clearing his throat and struggling to sound less defeated than his eyes suggested he was.

“_La Nymphe Europe_–” The boy pointed towards them. “The books you own and– judging by the state of the binding– you seem to have read multiple times. The first five volumes are doubtlessly first edition– for they have the original covers. Ma’ hates those artworks– thoroughly _hates_ them! We actually do not have that first edition in our home– mother never took them from Tarth when we moved to King’s Landing. The artist got _everything_ wrong– she said. _It’s like he did not even read the books! I swear to Gods!_” Albert tried to hide a smile. On second thoughts, maybe his mother was a little obsessive too– at least when it came to her craft and her precious series. He was but a child, yet he remembered the day well. A big box had been delivered to their doorsteps, on Tarth, a big box containing the first 1000 volumes of _Albertine Europe_. Brienne Tarth was to sign them all– which she was so looking forward to… until she opened the box and saw the final version of her debut novel. His mother lost her senses so, that she dropped a swearing word in front of him! That day she had been angrier than Albert ever saw her. She vowed to have the artworks changed and she saw her vow through. Shortly after the fifth volume was published, his mother finally succumbed to her editor’s insistences and they started dating. She surely used her new influence well. Tormund could never say _‘no’_ to her– not even when granting his beloved’s wishes meant getting sued by an artist who had been contracted for the whole series. His mother sketched the new covers herself and then a _‘proper artist’_ turned them into reality. Albert never found out whether Podrick was a _‘proper artist’_ in contrast to her own sketching skills, or in contrast to the poor unfortunate sod who drew the original artworks.

“I read…” Jaime started, clearing his voice. He was visibly shaken by Albert’s words, yet he tried his best to feint composure. “I read somewhere that she disliked the original covers, yet they will forever remain the first edition_ and that carries a certain collectors’ weight to it.”

Albert smiled a little sad smile. “Oh, if I were you, I’d stay clear of such remarks around mother_ or you’ll be branded as a _fake fan_ who did not understand the essence of her books. Because otherwise, _how on earth could you justify liking the abominations that are those covers_?” He imitated her and Jaime chuckled. Their eyes locked and Albert sighed, while the older man’s momentary joy dried promptly in his throat. “I just do not understand– you seem to love my mother.” He shook his head. “Not _love-love_, but _love_ as fans do– you seem to love what she does, what she created.”

“I do love your mother, Albert.” Jaime confessed shily. “She has been my favourite author for years. She gave me something to dream of and live for when the world around me seemed bleak. I wanted to meet her time and time again– the only thing that stopped me was knowing how discreet a person she is. I have heard her saying in more than one interview that she deeply values her privacy. I am not even sure I knew she had a son. Now I wish I had been bolder in my desire to meet her.” Regret was written all over his face. “Who knows what could have happened, had I actually attended the launch of her seventh book, as I wanted…”

“Most likely nothing.” The boy replied rather sharply, prompting a confused frown from his father. “Just be honest, Jaime– you do not remember meeting her! You wouldn’t have known who my mother was, other than your favourite author. You did not know it when you scared the soul out of her at the pool party. It wouldn’t have been any different five years ago. Your brother was the one who dug the truth out and came seeking us– not you_ and my mother wouldn’t have moved a finger. Not then, not now.” Albert let his head down. He was not angry– not anymore. It was sadness that filled his heart. Slowly, his left hand moved towards Aegon’s chair, seeking his boyfriend for comfort. Their fingers intertwined and Aegon gave Albert a reassuring squeeze, before slowly caressing his palm with the thumb.

“How can you not remember my mother?” Albert whispered painfully. “You claim to hold her in high esteem. You say you know a lot about her– and yet you have no memory of being intimate with her, of putting your seed inside her and turning her whole life upside down!” This time Aegon’s grip tightened threateningly, nails digging in his palm as a warning he was going too far. “I am sorry… what I meant is…”

“I know what you meant– and you do not have to be sorry.” Jaime shifted in his seat uncomfortably, as the air in the room became heavy to breathe. Yet he said no more on the matter.

“What’s your favourite colour?” There was no point on pressing forward, so Albert forced a smile.

Jaime responded in kind, before letting sighing deeply. “It used to be green, but now it’s blue.”

“I like green still…” Albert lifted Aegon’s hand to his lips and pressed a small peck on his knuckles. “Like Jon’s car–” He said with a cheeky smile, half trying to change the mood of the conversation, half trying to draw his strength from the presence of the man he loved. Aegon was his rock_ always. “Jon’s car is the most beautiful shade of green…”

“Nice try, love.” Aegon said rolling his eyes, yet smiling. “You still cannot drive it.”

“You two seem to be so very close…” Jaime said, observing them carefully. “Have you been together a long time?”

Aegon nodded timidly and passed a curl behind his ear. “We’ve met as children and became best friends. But as a couple– we’ve been together for almost three years, sir.”

“Oh, please, call me _Jaime_ as well.”

The older boy shook his head slowly. “I am afraid I cannot do that, sir– my father would be most unpleased.”

“That is true–” Albert laughed lightly. Rhaegar was rather conservative– which made Aegon’s leap from Winterfell to King’s Landing hard to bear, at least at first. Albert knew his own mother was very permissive, but even he could not deny that Lyanna took libertine parenting to a whole different level. Any young child would have loved growing up with Lyanna. Compared to her, Rhaegar and his discipline were hard to love. Besides, it hardly helped Rhaegar’s case that Catelyn Stark had treated Aegon with vile strictness whenever Lyanna was absent and her husband was not looking_ both of which happened often. It took Aegon years to overcome his anxiety and be at ease whenever his father was nearby. That was only one of the many reasons why Albert hated the man_ and yet his boyfriend seemed to be changing his stance as of late, leaning more and more towards his father. “Jon is a good son– better than I will ever be, and that is a promise.” Albert joked cheekily, his mood picking up again. When Aegon elbowed him thinking it was a jape, the younger boy merely lifted his shoulders and mouthed a _‘what? I mean it, love.’_. Then he turned back to look at Jaime, for some reason all too eager to show his father some of his truer colours. “Jon would hardly ever do something to displease his father– although he does make a few exceptions for me and my Ma’– for me because I am a bad influence and for my mother because… well, because she reminds him of his own mother. Jon and Ma’ are very close, so he calls her _Brie__ he does so ever since we became friends, eons ago. Believe it or not, his father still has no idea! Before Jon came of age, every time we met and our parents were both present, I tried my best– or rather _my worst_, to make him slip.”

“I completely understand you, Jon. I was actually brought up the same by my father– but ever since I started teaching, I changed my ways. It’s easier for me to communicate with my students this way and I feel it helps them open up during debates. But, by all means, call me however you feel most comfortable to.” Aegon bowed his head thankful and Jaime smiled, before turning to look at his son with a raised eyebrow. “As for you, Lannister spawn– that sounds beyond mean. Is that the way to treat your boyfriend? I have to say, I am _most unpleased_…” Jaime said trying to sound scolding.

The boys laughed, although Albert’s cheeks did turn a darker shade of pink. “We might be more than brothers now, but for years we grew together _like brothers_– and getting each other in trouble is what brothers are meant for! Just for the record, Jon can be mean too– for instance, in my fresher’s year of high school, Jon and two of his friends_ they were popular juniors already_ tricked me into auditioning for our school’s production of the Sleeping Beauty _as _the Sleeping Beauty. I did not realise the jape until it was too late_ and I got the part! Ms. Massey, the drama teacher, swore she would be forever heartbroken if I bailed on her. It’s been over two years and I have been in other plays, but to this day everybody at school calls me _‘beauty’__ and Jon above all has a particular liking for the pet name.” 

Aegon giggled guiltily and Jaime bit his lips not to. “Well, there are worse pet names and I have to have to admit that you are a beautiful boy.”

Albert laughed out loud. “Heavens, I actually thought the same when I first looked at you– my mind went _‘he’s such a beautiful man’_. But don’t you agree that it’s too narcissistic a thought to fathom when we look so much alike? You may think you are complimenting me, but basically you are only complimenting your own looks.”

Jaime laughed covering his face with both hands and murmuring over and over _‘oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods_ have you gotten anything at all from your mother?’_, then turning his head towards Aegon he asked with a sigh. “Is he always like this– a little arrogant and know-it-all?”

“No, sir– he’s usually worse.” Albert pulled his tongue out at Aegon. Letting go of his boyfriend’s hand, the younger boy crossed his arms to his chest, pretending to be offended. Aegon rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Fine– I admit it was rather cruel of me to trick him like that– but in my defence, it was a revenge many years in the making. You see, sir, when we first met at fencing class, Albert was a very tall and slender eight years old, with a really pretty face and shiny long hair. I thought he was a girl, which I unwittingly voiced aloud and refused to spar against him. Albert was so offended by my remark that kicking and punching me whenever he got the chance became his favourite sport– and it went on for a very long year! I did not actually think Al’ would go through with the play_ I just wanted to point out that others could mistake his identity too, as I did.”

“I went through with the play because Ms. Massey brought out the big guns_ also known as crocodile tears_ and I just cannot bear seeing a woman upset. All my life I have been obsessed with knights and honour and chivalry and letting the damsel-teacher cry because of me went against my code_ also, I have to admit, this hair looks good with a tiara on…” Albert said cockily, flipping his locks over his shoulder.

Jaime could not hide the proudness in his smile. “I cannot but agree with your code, Albert– in fact, I am the same. And I have actually dotted dresses to appease the fairer sex too. You see–” His tone changed, becoming softer, while an inkling of sadness shone in his eyes. “I had a twin sister– Cersei.” And just like that, they were slipping back into dangerous waters. Albert tried his best not to flinch at the mentioning of his unfortunate aunt. Cowardly, he had hoped she wouldn’t come up, for the little they knew about her made his heart ache and filled Aegon with wretched guilt. But his father was unaware of the secrets the boys had come by– so he told his story forward.

“In our childhood, Cersei and I swapped places a lot. You see, although he could barely tell us apart– since we looked so much alike– my father nonetheless tended to favour me in everything, for the simple fact that I was a boy. He wished to groom me to take over the family and the family’s company, reason why we spent a lot of time together. I was a child, there was not much I could learn at that stage– but my father loved to keep me around like a shadow, to be exposed to his ways, to his thinking. Before he shipped us off to boarding school, I spent most of my days in his office, often doing nothing more than just my normal homework or scribbling at his desk, while he did his thing. Cersei yearned for father’s attention, so she often pretended to be me. Needless to say, I was ecstatic about the arrangement. It was a relief to have father off my back– and if wearing skirts and dresses was what it took for a few lazy hours to myself, then I was all too eager to ‘pay the price’. Cersei had a flair for acting– maybe you got that from her–” He smiled dreamily, tilting his head. “–when she assumed a role, she was transfixed, going all in. So, it took father twelve years to figure us out– and it only happened because I could not pretend to be Cersei as well as she pretended to be me. Father made us stop– yet we did it one more time, for our senior prom in high school. It was Cersei’s desire, as you can imagine, and I could not say no to her when she threatened to cry. I admit that we were aided by the fact that it was a masquerade ball, but no one figured us out. I became prom queen effortlessly– although part of me does suspect it was solely because no one dared to defy my sister, and not so much for how well my hair looked with a tiara on– but I did look good!”

Albert faked a smile, unsure of what to do next– unsure of what to say without revealing he knew of Cersei’s tragic end. Then again– Jaime’s tone and manner of speaking both implied his sister had passed away. So, maybe, the man expected his son to express some sympathy. It seemed innocent– polite even– to do so, yet Albert could not bring himself to open his mouth on the matter, his chest feeling too tight at the mere thought of it. Instead, he decided to play rather dumb, focusing on Jaime’s role in the story, while casually ignoring the mentioning of his aunt. “It would be hilarious to see you in a gown and a tiara.”

When his father laughed lightly, Albert felt like exhaling in relief. He did not, but faked another smile– a wider one this time. “Well, as it happens, I have a picture here.” Opening the drawer from his desk, Jaime took out a frame. As if on a cue, Aegon grabbed the bowl of chocolates and put two in his mouth. His father seemed utterly oblivious to his boyfriend’s growing distress– thank the Gods! The last thing they needed was for Jaime to smell the _Targaryen _in Aegon.

“Here…” The man said, passing the picture to Albert after having looked at it for several long moments. “This was a present from my sister– I am the one with the tiara, while the good looking lad beside me is your aunt Cersei.” Never in his life had Albert seen a more elegant frame– a simple block of flawless Myrish glass, with the picture preserved within. A mesmerised _‘wow’_ escaped Albert’s lips, while his fingers trailed over the glass, rather afraid not to break it. In a peculiar way, the frame distracted him more than the picture itself. He already knew about the uncanny resemblance between the Lannister twins from the photographs Aegon had found in the Targaryen family album– so seeing his young father in double was not as shocking as it could have been without the heads up. But Jaime did take his _‘wow’_ that way:

“We were truly hard to tell apart and the costumes surely did not help.” 

Albert nodded without a word, while Aegon whispered a faint _‘can I see too?’_. They leaned towards each other until their heads met and the picture came between them. It was a beautiful photograph and the twins looked happy. Jaime was in a black A-line gown, a long golden-feathered cape atop, concealing his manly shoulders and arms really nicely. His mask was golden too, his lips blood-red, just like his nails. His locks were waving down in perfect curls, diamond earrings sparkling through– and, last, but not least, a wonderful fringe tiara rested on his forehead. Cersei’s colours were reversed– her tux was golden and her mask was black. Her nails were cut short, there was no lipstick on her lips, and her hair was caught in a manly bun. She looked strangely victorious– something in the curve of her smile felt less than innocent. She looked as if she had discovered the key to having her cake and eating it too.

“Is there something on the back?” Aegon mouthed, but Albert heard his weak words and turned the frame around. A caption was written in beautiful handwriting: “_One way or another you were meant to win me a crown – just as one day you’ll win me a Westie Award. Love u always, Cers xxoo”_

Albert chuckled in spite of himself. “That’s a funny _thank you_ note.”

“How is it a _thank you_ note?” Aegon frowned.

“You have to dive deeper into _‘what did the author mean’_ mentality, Jon. Read it between the lines and you will see that the idea of gratitude is in there.”

Jaime smiled sadly: “No, it is really, _really_ not– but that picture means a lot to me. Cers took a lot after our father, so she had a colder type of personality. She was not that good at showing affection, or offering presents– and expressing gratitude was definitely lost on her. But she definitely surprised me with this frame, which ended up being the last present I received from her before she passed. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to win her a Westie.”

Albert bit his lip, lowering his head. With all his being he knew that Aegon would not be able to keep quiet. The story of his parents’ affair fell like a dark shadow over his soul. He had always wondered how their love unraveled in heartbeats– and now he knew a death was the cause of it. For his peace, he needed to learn more about the incident– and Jaime held many of the answers. “What happened to her…” Aegon asked timidly, just as Albert knew he would.

“She rode her motorbike off a cliff straight into the Sunset Sea.” Jaime said calmly.

“What made her kill herself?” Albert asked biting his lower lip, eyes drifting to the picture in his hand.

Jaime shook his head. “No– she did not. You see, my sister had a taste for speed– she had four stock cars she used in amateur races with her fiancé, her personal car was a crazy-fast silver DLW– if you’ve heard of the brand– and she bought and changed her motorcycles nearly as often as she bought her shoes and changed her purses. She channeled her anger through speed– and that day she was very angry. No one killed Cersei and she did not kill herself either– it was just an unfortunate accident, from which she never recovered.” His father’s eyes rested on him. “Albert…” He called his name as a plea. “You wanted to know why I do not remember your mother and I never answered your question.”

“It is quite alright, Jaime. You can tell me another time…” Albert smiled with indulgence.

“I can tell you now. You see, I did not always believe Cersei’s accident was just that– _an accident_. I blamed her fiancé and the woman he had an affair with for–” Jaime’s sentence was cut short, as Aegon’s phone began ringing.

“Didn’t you put that on _do not disturb_? You promised me you did!” Albert growled with a frown, while his boyfriend slipped his hand in his pocket.

“I said I did, and _I did!_– for most people at least.” The older boy gulped and Albert clenched his teeth. They had both agreed to make themselves utterly unreachable for as long as they were at the University. Albert should have guessed his boyfriend would never go as far as turning his phone off to Rhaegar. A few hours! _A few hours _was all he asked of him. A few hours of radio silence– just until his normal school day was supposed to come to an end, and then they’d phone their parents and come clean. Then the storm could unleash. But _noooo_– _noooo_, Aegon could not be anything less than a perfect son. “So sorry– so, so, so sorry, sir.” The boy mumbled looking at Jaime mortified.

“Albert, don’t you be rude!” Jaime hissed. “Jon, dear, feel free to take that call– we are not in class or prison here.”

It was only then that Aegon dared to look at his phone. “Oh, it’s _just _my mother!” He exhaled in relief. “I will slip a short while out to talk to her– would that be alright?” Jaime nodded and Aegon got to his feet, dialing Lyanna’s number. Albert said nothing, but it was hard for him to shake off his annoyance.

“Albert, don’t be upset with him– he did nothing wrong.” His father said in a low voice once the door closed behind Aegon. “I know that you feel safer, more comfortable with your boyfriend here_ but the truth is that I really hoped I’d have a moment alone with you– that’s not to say that I don’t think Jon is a wonderful boy_ he is, and I am really happy to know you have someone like him beside you. It’s just–” Jaime sighed deeply, reaching for his son’s glass of water. In a few gulps, he downed it all. Passing his tongue over his lips, his father closed his eyes and said lowly: “That year I spent in Essos is something I willingly and unwillingly suppressed for years.” Lifting his lids once more, Jaime looked at his soon, emerald green asking for patience, indulgence, forgiveness. “I have never spoken of that year and of my memory loss with anyone– at least not until I started therapy a few weeks ago. And it does not come easy at all– this is why it means the world to me that we’re alone right now…”

“Alright…” Albert whispered with a soft nod. “I am listening– I swear, I will not judge you–” _father…_ the word was on his lips, but he bit it back “–_Jaime._ I just want to know…”

“I know– and you have the right to.” He tried to smile, but could not quite. “You see– my sister and I were very close_ _unhealthily_ close_ many said and maybe they were right. In a way, she was my whole world. We lost our mother when we were five and our lives changed for the worse, for our father never resigned himself with her passing. Our childhood was not a happy one, so we clung onto each other. I could never bear seeing Cersei upset_ which she frequently was_ it simply ate me from within. And so, I always went over and beyond to make her happy.” Jaime shook his head and groaned. “Albert, you have no idea how it pains me to tell you this– but if you hoped to find a big happy family on this side of your tree, you will find nothing but disappointment. We– the Lannisters– have never been a functioning family in the traditional sense. And even the little we had unraveled when Cersei had her accident. The truth is I have not seen my father in ten years– that’s when my brother bet him out of his own company– and I have not spoken to the old man in probably seven– that’s when he nearly got me kicked out of the University. I loathe him because he turned my sister’s life support off. He loathes me for taking my brother’s side in their feud_ but mostly for never being the heir he hoped I’d be. Ever since Cersei died, my brother thinks I am half a person who cannot take care of himself. For him, my life is broken just because I refuse to work for Lions&Lions. _This_ is what we are– a dysfunctional pride of lions.”

“I am sorry…” Albert whispered although he did not know exactly what he was sorry for.

“I am sorry, too– I am sorry that I did not have the maturity and the strength to handle things differently when Cersei was gone. The two years when she was in the hospital and the year that followed are the darkest of my life. I was so lost, I could not control myself. I was vengeful and vicious, and made mistakes beyond my counting skills_ most of which I cannot even remember.” Jaime took in a deep breath and looked straight into Albert’s eyes. “The reason why Meereen is gone from my memory is drugs. I was doing a lot of drugs at the time– most of them exotic psychedelics which tempered with my mind. I wanted so desperately to forget and that is precisely what happened.”

Albert let his head down, his mind as blank as his father’s memory of Meereen.

“I want you to know that I worked hard to overcome the issues I had– I have changed, _son_. I am not that man anymore. It pains me, but I cannot turn back time now_ although I would, if that was an option. I cannot welcome you into a big happy family, I cannot be a part of your childhood_ and I probably don’t even have the right to be_ but I want to be part of youth, of your adulthood. I want to be your father, part of _your_ family– if you’ll have me.”

Albert wanted to scream _‘I’ll have you– oh, Gods, of course, I’ll have you’_, but a treacherous tear threatened to escape his lashes and his chin trembled so, that he simply could not get a word out– nor did he have the time to. The door opened behind him, breaking the moment.

Jaime hid his disappointment well, while Albert turned his head to look at his boyfriend. Aegon walked in holding his head down and looking thoroughly distraught.

“Babe’–” Albert said jolting from the chair. “Is everything alright?”

Aegon shook his head. “My mom’s in hospital– she fell off… she fell at work and broke a leg.”

“Oh, Lords!” Jaime gasped.

“What?” Albert frowned. “How is that even possible?” Lyanna falling off her horse was unheard of._ Lyanna never fell!_ He didn’t have to say the words for Aegon to understand what he was thinking.

“Turns out she fell now– and she wants me to go to Winterfell to be with her.” Aegon’s jaw tightened and he needn’t say more either, for Albert understood. Over the years, Lyanna had often found ways to have her son nearby during the holidays, regardless of whether it was her turn to have him or not. This year was Rhaegar’s turn– _worse even!_– it was the first holiday season after Aegon came of age. There were no more judge rulings decreeing with whom the boy should be at the turning of the year. Aegon _chose_ to be in King’s Landing and not in Winterfell. That’s could not sit well with Lyanna! True– Aegon was attending a Northern University just to be near her. He spent an entire semester at the Wall, going to Winterfell every other weekend! But that mattered naught– for where would be the spirit of the holidays without Lyanna poaching on Rhaegar’s turf?

Albert nearly growled. He loved Lyanna– who wouldn’t? She was damn right charming. But right now, he did hate her a little, for she was poaching on _his_ turf too! Aegon had been in King’s Landing for a little over a week! They were meant to have a month together and she was taking him away? Why no one understood his life was bleak when Aegon was away?

Dwelling in his thoughts, Albert did not hear Jaime getting beside them. “Do not worry, Jon.” He said placing a hand on the older boy’s shoulder. “I am sure your mother will be alright– although I see why she would want you near her when she is so distressed. It seems to me you have this quality rarely found in people– you keep everyone afloat just by being present.” Albert put his head down, biting on his lower lip hard to stop himself from getting unnecessarily emotional. His father was not wrong– Aegon did have that quality… it was part of why he loved him so dearly, part of why it hurt to be away from him.

“I suppose we’re cutting the trip short– go back to KL right away…” Albert whispered with a sigh. His boyfriend nodded with a pleading look.

“I am sorry, Al’, Mr. Lannister– I did not want to ruin your day…”

“Nonsense.” Jaime smiled. “Nothing can ruin this day for me.”

“Or me…” Leaning in, Albert pressed a kiss on Aegon’s cheek. Passing a curl behind his boyfriend’s ear, Albert smiled sadly. He had to learn to let go more and be grateful for what he got. His time with his father was just beginning and, if the Gods were good, his time with Aegon would be endless. “Thank you for bringing me to meet Jaime. You helped me open the door towards a relationship I never thought I’d be allowed to have. There will be other times to step in and explore what it can bring– but now, your mother needs you and I need to go back to mine.” _Pray she is not too upset… and beg her to forgive me._

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you all for reading! I hope you like how the story is progressing. Do you have any favourite/least favourite characters? Looking forward to reading your impressions. Lots of love Xx_   
  
_**coming up next:** Rhaegar's dinner with Brienne._


	12. RHAEGAR II - At the doors of the Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Have you noticed that a new relationship tag was added to this story_ 👀👀👀... _something might be brewing._  
  
_**Happy reading!**_  
_**Xx**_

[](https://imgur.com/IwNAyiz)

++++++++++++++++++++

Rhaegar brought Drogon to a stop right by the main stairs of the wellness retreat. _The Palace of the Senses _was King’s Landing’s most luxurious pleasure dome, founded over three centuries before by a wealthy widow from Volantis. Sailing from over the seas with enough gold to make a Lannister seem poor, Lady Talisa claimed o be a Maegyr, relentlessly professing her ability to prove unbroken descent from Old Valyria. She bought land a few miles west of King’s Landing, on the banks of Blackwater Rush, and built herself a mansion so large most thought it a palace. Befriending the Queen and her ladies in waiting, Lady Talisa introduced them to the beauty mysteries of Essos. Word spread fast. More and more noble ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms hurried to spend lengthy periods of time_ and veritable fortunes_ at Lady Talisa’s _Palace_. Those who could not get in, began to whisper, calling her a fraud– a mere brothel-keeper from the Free Cities, for she was too good at pampering shrews, at modeling their bodies with the use of potions and eccentric exercises, at teaching them how to keep aflame the passion of their marital beds. The notoriety only increased Talisa’s popularity and influence among the Westerosi nobility. She knew how to make any woman beautiful and any marriage happy– no one cared how old and pure the blood in her veins was, as long as she worked her magic on all those who could afford the luxury… and Rhaegar Targaryen could.

He looked towards the massive white doors at the top of the marble stairs and smiled. Truth be told, so could the most popular author in Westeros– afford an afternoon at the _Palace_, that is. There was only one little problem: Brienne Tarth was too selfless and foolishly devoted to her son to ever consider giving herself an expensive treat, just like that, on a whim. It was not to say she had never been at the _Palace_ before, quite the contrary_ Rhaegar knew she loved going there, for it made her feel, _‘if only for a few hours’_– she once commented with a hint of sadness and he had never forgotten it,–_ ‘a woman worthy of the name’_. But her visits to the wellness retreat were always planned long in advance and only after she ensured the eccentricity was fully made up for in the form of a _‘special present’_ for her brat.

Rhaegar growled at the thought of how the egotistical bastard was now repaying his mother for everything she had sacrificed for him… and yet it was not entirely Albert’s fault. When Rhaegar had first met Brienne all those years back, that unconditional dedication to motherhood was a great part of what attracted him to her– of what made him reach out when he needed a piece of advice, of what made him trust her as a friend… and even get an embarrassing crush on her. How could he not, when she was everything that he wished Lyanna were? But as time went by and they got to know each other closer through their sons, the less good aspects of Brienne’s (s)mothering came to light. It became apparent to him that she tried to obsessively overcompensate for Jaime’s absence– she felt guilty, as if her son not knowing his father was entirely her fault. Twice or thrice, a heart-breaking remark here and there, _nearly_ made him tell her the truth. _Nearly…_

He never did– always finding an excuse to bite his tongue. Most often than not the excuse was Albert. Invariably, the kid would do something so inherently _Jaime_ that Rhaegar was left astound– and then all traces of goodwill were bound to fade away. No matter how much time passed, he could never look at Albert without at least a trace of bitterness. It was not fair on the child and– _Seven Heavens!_– Rhaegar knew that! Yet he could not help himself… 

From the first moment his near violet eyes rested on the golden-haired boy who was staring insistently at him during the induction fencing class, Rhaegar knew– _he just knew!_ With every fiber of his body and every drop of his blood, he felt that the islander child was, somehow, Jaime Lannister’s blossomed seed. The resemblance was extraordinary! A veritable vision of their long-lost childhood– so Rhaegar’s very first impulse was to smile.

Alas, he did not– not fully anyway. Before the corners of his lips could curve too generously, his senses regained control over his treacherous heart with its boyish nostalgia. Unbidden, he thought of Lyanna… and their signatures on the seven-damned divorce papers. He thought of their battle for custody.

_He did it… he killed us… it’s over._ Rhaegar remembers the words echoing through his mind while he looked at Albert that first time– _it’s truly over!_ Eleven years and Jaime Lannister’s revenge was, at a long last, completed. An arrow pierced through his soul and it hurt… oh, it hurt like the deepest hell…

Something snapped within Rhaegar as the realisation sank. Jaime Lannister, his oldest and dearest friend in the world– his _‘favourite brother’_, as Tyrion and later Viserys bitterly accused– had made sure to leave no aspect of his life unscathed. His forefathers’ name– forever tainted. His political career– forever ruined. His company– severely damaged. His Lyanna– forever lost on him. And yet, none of the pain and loss Jaime’s actions had inflicted upon him, could ever compare to what the damned lion did to Aegon. A babe paying the price for everyone else’s mistakes. His son condemned to growing up in a broken family solely because Jaime Lannister had an insatiable obsession for vengeance.

Looking towards the doors of the _Palace_, yet still thinking back to that first time he had met Brienne and her Lannister spawn, Rhaegar sighed, greatly conflicted with the decision he had long ago taken regarding the truth he knew.

_Eye for an eye! _He had vowed that day and kept stubbornly true to it. For every tear Aegon had shed or swallowed, for every smile he did not smile, for every heartache that made him put his head down, for every time he had to choose a parent to spend his birthday with, for the utter devastation he had suffered when he moved from Winterfell… for all that and all the pain yet to come, Jaime Lannister did not deserve to know about the golden cub! 

_It wasn’t my place to tell either…_ He reminded himself, trying to shake off the resurfacing guilt– for a lot of that had built up over the years. Not because of Jaime– _no!_ he still did not deserve to know the truth– but because of _her_. Just like Aegon, Brienne Tarth shouldn't be forced to pay the price for Rhaegar being unfaithful to Cersei and Jaime being a psychopath!

Before the words could settle in Rhaegar's heart, his phone rang, echoing loudly through Drogon’s sound system. Startled from his thoughts, his violet eyes fell on the display before him– _Aegon Targaryen_, the screen read. Clearing his throat, he pursed his lips: _“Ella_– answer.” The ringing stopped.

_“Hey, dad…”_ Rhaegar knew his son well enough to sense just how guarded his voice was, treading carefully as if testing the ground. A wicked smile curved the man's lips and he rolled his eyes bemused. _Children!_ They thought they were so smart!

“Hello, son.” He replied on a casual tone, aware that such a reaction would derail Aegon from his well-rehearsed speech.

_“Oh… hello…” _The boy mumbled utterly confused. Rhaegar bit his lips to hold in a guffaw. So predictable! _“Ahm, how are you doing? How has your day been?”_ He improvised nervously, not knowing how to proceed.

“It could have been better– I am still at the office, with a lot of unfinished work and I had a rough exchange of opinions with Elia_ again. Everything is in the air! I cannot agree on anything with that stubborn Dornish and, at this pace, I am afraid we’ll be left with no exhibition to open!” He faux sighed. “Listen, Aeg– thinking of it, I’d appreciate it greatly if you freed your evening to come and help me out. I am tired and hungry and I would hate it to get home, once more, in the dead of the night.”

_“Ah… ahm…”_ Aegon gulped anxiously. _“I… ahm…”_

“Seriously, Aegon? You do not want to help me?” The older man provoked.

_“No– no! Dad, you know I would never… it’s not like that! I cannot come because…”_

“You’re in Lannisport– oh, yes!” Rhaegar cut him short, ending the cruel dance. “My bad, I entirely forgot– which is justifiable, seeing as you did not bother telling me you’d go there.” Silence.

Awkward seconds ticked by until, with a deep sigh and half a groan, Aegon whispered from the other end of the line. _“How much do you know?”_

“As a rule– everything.” Rhaegar Targaryen hummed lowly on that signature timber which made him feared.

_“Right…”_ His son replied weakly. _“Well, we’re… we’re not quite in Lannisport still. We are driving back already.”_

“I am aware– but thank you for finally calling.” The father said admonishingly. The time was nearing seven in the evening. Lyanna had called to let him know she’d done her bid at about three and a half past noon. Ella notified him that Rhaegal was on the move, leaving Lannisport, at five. And, alas, at a little past six, Brienne called Myles and asked him to pass on the message that the boys had reached out. The sneaky bastards saved the worst for last. Rhaegar rolled his eyes, adding sharply. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” In truth, he wasn’t even half as bothered with the situation as he pretended to be– but under no circumstance was he about to let his son believe he could get away with murder. 

_“There would be something…” _Aegon said resigned. _“Has mother talked to you?”_

“Yes, Ly did phone…” Rhaegar’s voice softened sensibly. There was no denying that the story she spun made quite the impression on him. When he had demanded of her to summon their child to Winterfell, he did not know what scenario to expect– but certainly not that! Not ever would Rhaegar have believed Lyanna Stark capable of sacrificing the end of her precious career for their son. Yet, she did… Pretending to have a broken leg meant she would not be able to ride in the Grand Finale of her fifth and last World Polo Championship. Her many moons in the making retiring match would never happen– _for Aegon!_ It left him speechless. Naturally, he admitted no such thing to her!– more than that– he did not as much as indicate he was aware of the consequences of her decision. After all, it would have been counterintuitive of him to pat her on the head for stepping up as a mother, at a long last.

_“I know I said I would spend the Holidays with you, but…”_

“You should go be with your mother, Aegon. I wouldn’t have it any other way– it’s hard enough for her as it is.” He smiled, feeling stupidly proud of Lyanna– yet he carefully kept the glee away from his tone. “In fact, I already booked your flight to Winterfell. You leave midday tomorrow– this way we will have time over breakfast for a little chat about what you’ve done.”

_“Thank you, dad– thank you for being so understanding with this… and I am sorry.”_ Aegon’s words warmed his heart and he almost replied something supporting, when the boy added unwittingly. _“Oh– dad? What about Rhaegal? Have you booked a transport ticket for my car too?”_

“Oh, sweet summer child!” Rhaegar burst into joyful laughter. “How can you be so gull as to believe you’re going to see your car anytime soon?” A high pitched _‘what?’_ followed by a terrified gasp echoed through Drogon’s speakers. Rhaegar smirked delighted. “–or your motor for that matter. Winterfell or King’s Landing– you’re grounded!”

_“Father, no! Please– anything, but Rhaegal!”_ Aegon cried out.

“What do you need the dragon for anyway? You’ll have all of your mother’s horses to take you about!” The man teased as his son whimpered like a wounded wolf pup. “Now, now– don’t be a child, Aegon. Chin up and face your misfortunes like a man– and thank your boyfriend for them_ who, by the way, is awfully quiet. Albert dear, are you alright?”

_“Yes, I’m fine, Mr. Targaryen– good evening, sir.”_ Albert said through gritted teeth.

“Not quite yet, boy, but it will be.” Rhaegar’s eyes turned towards the _Palace_ and he passed his tongue over his lips thinking of Brienne stepping through those doors and walking towards his car.

_This was it!_ His last chance with the only woman who made him feel _something_ after his divorce. He had stupidly missed all his other cues! The first time he considered asking her out, he wasted his chance by overthinking Albert’s paternity and the fact that the boys were not getting along. Then he stopped himself for Lyanna and the breakdown she had upon hearing Aegon and the _Lannister spawn_ became friends. It would have been outright provoking to make them _brothers _and he could not do that to her. By the time he realised he did not care if his life choices pained his ex, Brienne was dating her northern editor– and that went on for entirely too many years. Then Aegon and Albert started dating– and, anyway, he and Brienne were way too deeply into their parenting friendship to screw things up. And while that did not change, something else did.

Jaime Lannister would soon enter her life again…

Rhaegar clenched his teeth and narrowed his eye. Although he had no idea what intentions his old friend would have towards the mother of his child, one thing was for sure: if he wanted her, he’d have to stay in line! _I’ll be damned if I’m going to step aside and serve you the ideal woman on a golden platter!_

“So, Albert–” The older man added unable to contain himself. “How’s Jaime doing? I hope you sent him my regards.” Both boys sucked in their breaths so loudly that Rhaegar was left smiling. None dared to speak and answer his question, so he waited patiently a while– allowing uncomfortable seconds to pass by. “Come now, boys– no need to be shy.” He urged them, giving in to curiosity.

Over three years had elapsed since Rhaegar last checked on Jaime– at that time, he published his first book_ _A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms__ in utmost secrecy. Splendid novel, instant success– and no one could tell who the author was. Doing something boastful, yet leaving no trail, no fingerprint behind was Jaime’s specialty. It’s how he brought Aerys Targaryen down– how he vanished in Essoss. He was _nearly_ as good at it, as Rhaegar was at being watchful_ and watchful he’d been for a long while. But that last time he’d checked, Jaime seemed stable. He seemed to have taken control over his life– he had severed his ties with Tywin, he had a flat of his own, a great job… once or twice even a smile on his face. It felt like the time to move on– so Rhaegar decided to let go… 

“I am sure quite a few charming little stories were brought up as soon as Aegon introduced himself.” And thus it happened that now, when his son had unwittingly entered the enemy’s den, Rhaegar had no clue of how calm or dangerous the waters were in Lannisport. “Has the lion eaten your tongues in his outrage?”

_“He’s…”_ Aegon whispered. _“–well.” _The boy cleared his throat, before resuming on a more composed tonality._ “He’s doing well. We said nothing of you, father– we tried our best to avoid complications, but Mr. Lannister did bring you up… once or twice.”_

Rhaegar frowned. “And what did _Mr. Lannister_ say about me?”

_“Something about whining all the way from Lannisport to Winterfell, sir–”_ The little lion replied impulsively with a snarky remark._ “– and what a dreadful drive that was. Auch! Don’t hit me, Aeg– I’m not lying!”_ Rhaegar rolled his eyes.

_“Alright, that might be roughly what he said, but not how he said it! Dad, he called you his ‘best friend’– twice– and his tone was filled with tangible nostalgia. Albert’s just being an ass!”_

“Problems in your fools’ paradise boys? Hope not– I would _genuinely_ hate it if this little running-towards-the-Sunset episode harmed your unhealthy codependency.” His tone was calm and even, but his words betrayed the extent to which the dragon had been rattled.

_“You’ve always hated me, sir– and know I understand why! You’ve known who my father was all along and wilfully kept him away from me!”_ Albert accused bitterly. _“It wasn’t your truth to hide, sir!”_

“It wasn’t my truth to tell, child!” Rhaegar hissed dangerously.

_“For the love of Gods! Could you two not do this over the phone while I am trying to drive!”_ His son burst out and Rhaegar squeezed his eyes, cursing himself. The last thing he wanted was for Aegon to be caught in the middle– the poor boy’s had enough of that due to the nature of his parents’ relationship. Besides, his uncharacteristic short-temper was most likely an indication of how saddened the boy was because of losing his car privileges and being separated from his pathetic boyfriend for a while. With a sigh, the father prepared to back down.

_“I’m sorry, love…”_ Albert whispered lowly, before the older man had the chance to say something. _“Forgive me, please… please…”_ The golden cub begged deflated, then cleared his voice and spoke up. _“Mr. Targaryen– forgive me, sir, for offending you. I have had a very emotional day– it’s hard to come at terms with everything that happened these past three weeks… everything at once. I feel hurt, sir, and betrayed– but I don’t want Aeg to suffer because of me– please, will you accept my apology?”_

Rhaegar was no fool. He was well aware that Albert did not truly mean his words– but the gesture in itself was no little sacrifice. As any Lannister, Brienne’s son was remarkably proud, and lowering his head in submission was hardly in his nature. But for all his flaws and faults, no one– not even Rhaegar– could doubt Albert’s love and devotion for Aegon. And for that…

“Yes, son, I do accept your apology– and I promise you that we will discuss whatever queries you may have. The door of my office is always open for you–” The boy mumbled a _‘thank you, sir’_ and Rhaegar sighed. “And, Albert– I do not hate you, I never have.”

_“You do not love me either, sir…”_

Rhaegar chuckled, shaking his head at the boy’s stubbornness– _Godsdamn, Jaime! The seed is strong._ “Let's just say I’ll let Aegon do all the loving, while I’ll try my best not to think of it.”

_“Dad!”_ His son growled embarrassed.

“Alright– alright! I’ll shut up and mind my own business– I have plenty planned to achieve tonight, anyway.” Rhaegar said eyeing the _Palace_’s doors once more. “Drive safely and I will see you tom–”

_“Mr. Targaryen– there would be one more thing, if you please.”_ Albert said respectfully– excessively so– sliding quickly on the defensive.

“I’m listening.” Rhaegar replied with a soft smile. The way in which the little lion’s roar melted into a kitten’s meow could only mean one thing–

_“It’s about my mother…”_ There it was!

“What about your mother?” Rhaegar’s eager eyes fixated on the _Palace_’s entrance for the hundredth time and, all of a sudden, his stomach fluttered nervously. _Gods’_ he was embarrassingly enthusiastic to see Brienne coming through those doors. The fact that no one– least of all her– knew what wishes animated his spirit, made the whole experience even more exciting. Without a doubt, this _date in disguise _was a hell of a gamble!– but he owed it to himself to try.

_“I have upset her…”_ Rhaegar smirked at Albert’s words– oh, he _definitely_ owed it to himself to try! More so than ever now that the boys had messed up badly enough to justify not asking for their opinions.

“Stating the obvious, boy.”

Swallowing back a growl, Albert struggled to keep his tone even. _“I know I have wronged her badly– I really do– really! But please, sir, could you help me reach her? I am really worried– she is not answering any of my calls, nor any of my messages. She’s keeping me on ‘seen’. All I need is a word– just to know she’s alright, the rest I will explain tomorrow.”_

“Do you, by any chance at all, see the hypocrisy of your words?” Rhaegar hissed suddenly outraged. “Is the irony of the situation utterly lost on you, child? You’ve skipped school to travel across the country, all the way to the other coast, on your own– pardon me, with your stupidly irresponsible boyfriend!– to meet a stranger and did not even consider what you’d be putting your mother through! You lied to her about your whereabouts and then turned off your phone for hours to avoid being caught. Your mother nearly lost her shit– excuse my High Valyrian– when she heard you disappeared! How dare you believe that _you_ of all people deserve having your mind put at ease just about now?”

_“Please, sir– please!”_ Albert begged.

“Absolutely not! The philosophy behind her not taking your calls and keeping you on 'seen' is not that deep, so understand a simple cue– your mother is ignoring you. She doesn’t want to be bothered by you. So be a decent son for a change and give her the breathing space she needs tonight! As for tomorrow– do not dare go pouring your selfish excuses on her. What you need to do is put your arrogant nose down and make yourself as small as a worm before her– do you hear me?” Not even the faintest sound could be heard at the other end of the line. “Albert _Lannister_? Do– you– hear– me?” Someone had to teach that lawless boy some respect!

_“Yes, sir.”_ The boy gulped, terrified. Just then, the massive white doors opened and Brienne Tarth’s long legs came into view– well, sort of, for a flowy long dress of icy-blue silk cruelly covered them. She wore high heels– that much he could see as, with every step that took her towards him, the waves of her skirts naughtily showed all kinds of ankle. He bit his lower lip, mesmerised at how she looked as if she were the ocean turned human. _My_ _nymphe..._

“Glad we settled this– anything else?” Rhaegar added hastily. “Or can I finally go focus on the hard work I need to do tonight?” Seeing his car waiting, she waved at him with a glowing smile. He waved back. 

_“We’re good, dad…”_ Aegon whispered hoarsely, his throat as dry as the Dornish desert in which he’d been born. _“Hope your evening will be productive...”_

“Oh, so do I! Safe travel, boys– and please don’t waste your time together fighting. It would be a shame, for only the Gods know when you’ll see each other next.” And on that thinly veiled threat, Rhaegar ended the phone call.

_“Ella_, open the passenger door.” His faithful AI assistant obliged, just as Brienne finished descending the marble staircase.

“Good evening!” She sounded so happy that he grinned like a fool.

“Evening to you too, Ms. Tarth–” Lifting the skirts of her dress with care, Brienne climbed beside him in his beloved dragon. Rhaegar’s eyes rested on her and almost immediately his eyebrows arched in surprise– the bottom half of her signature bob was now blue. “Loving the new hair!”

“Well, I told to myself– if my son can go rogue, then so can I… and, quite frankly, the ocean scented essential oils made me yearn for Tarth. It’s embarrassing, but I went as far as texting your assistant to go buy me this dress.” She giggled guiltily, while her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. 

“You sent Myles shopping and he chose _this_ dress!?” _Seven Heavens!_– the man needed a bonus cheque.

Brienne burst into laughter and shook her head, forcing her blue locks into a whimsical dance. “Not exactly– I saw this dress weeks ago in the window of one of those posh boutiques by the Bay. It’s a _Melara Hetherspoon_–” She said in a fancy tone, her face twisting in what could only be a grimace of self-irony at having stooped to the level of buying designer clothes. “I tried it on a few times, but seeing as it was over two thousand dragons, I considered it an utterly unnecessary expense.” She lifted her shoulders as an excuse. “Then I got really angry, decided I deserved it– and your Myles told me to text him if I needed anything… so here we are.” She finished with a hand gesture towards the silks that caressed her body.

Rhaegar laughed. “Might not seem entirely so, but it was a wise investment– this dress looks as made especially for you.” Turning the engine on, he threw her another glance. “How are you feeling?”

“I am feeling divine– thank you so much for this afternoon, Rhaegar.” Her voice was soft, just like the touch of the hand she placed on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have made your assistant send me packing to the Palace, I wasn’t _that _upset.”

“Of course you were not–” Rhaegar agreed to her lie politely. “But I felt like you could use an afternoon at the spa anyways.” And his pre-date pampering present seemed to be entirely paying off_ if he were to judge by how relaxed she was, how eager to treat herself without caring about what others– _her son!_– might think. 

“I know why you did it– and it’s very sweet. But you still shouldn’t have.” He raised a skeptical eyebrow and murmured a low _‘why did I’_, while steering the car away from the Palace. “You feel bad for Aegon helping Albert.” Rhaegar smiled at how delightfully oblivious she was. “It wasn’t his fault– I don’t blame him in the least. _But…_ I know you and how important your son’s _‘proper behaviour’_ is in your eyes– so I decided to indulge you.”

“Busted!” He exclaimed rolling his eyes theatrically. “And seeing that I still feel terribly guilty, you’ll have to indulge me some more– because you just gave me a wild idea. How hungry are you?”

“Not so much,” She said lightly, passing a strand of hair behind her ear. “–although I am craving the Tarth-_ish_-like seafood you promised– and the wine.”

“That’s it right there– that judgemental _ish _I knew to expect– so here’s the idea: we’re going to Evenfall for dinner.”

Brienne burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “Yeah’ sure.”

“I am not kidding.” Rhaegar grinned looking at her. “If we’re heading straight to the airport, in one and a half hours we can be in your favourite restaurant placing our order.”

“You _are_ kidding…” Brienne corrected him, unable to believe his jape.

“You just said you’re yearning for Tarth– and that yearning is written all over you: your hair is blue, your dress is blue– your eyes, though they’ve always been like that.” The desire of flirting with her was building up in the pits of his stomach. But it was too soon– he had to hold back until they made it to dinner. Relying on his unfailing power of self-control, Rhaegar added as casual as it came. “Also– admit it– even if we order the seafood from that place on River Row you claim you like, you will still be spending the entire dinner complaining about the taste being nothing like it should.”

“Oh, I will complain relentlessly– that’s a given. But going to Tarth is crazy!” In spite of the burning desire in her eyes, Brienne did her best to keep her head leveled– as she always did. “Besides, I truly do not wish you to disturb one of your pilots for a whim, particularly at this hour of the evening.”

“Worry not– I wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. I am perfectly capable of piloting my planes on my own, thank you very much.” This time, he winked at her in spite of himself. “Plus, we’d be taking the helicopter– makes for a better view.”

“Rhaegar…” Brienne gasped, biting her lower lip. “We cannot just go to Evenfall because I don’t like the restaurants in King’s Landing…” Her voice was wistful, her resolve visibly breaking. “Who does extravagant outings like that anyway?”

“Off the top of my head?” Rhaegar smirked at the way in which she handed him the winning argument. “Our teenage sons– and Lannisport is even further away...”

Brienne’s eyes popped wide open and her lips pursed. For a second, Rhaegar worried the boys’ adventure hadn’t been as witty an argument after all– but then she smiled, the corners of her lips curving more and more with every passing heartbeat. Tilting her head towards the window, Brienne looked at him as one looked at a partner in crime.

“You know what, Rhaegar? Let’s have dinner on Tarth!”

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[](https://imgur.com/IwNAyiz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you all for reading! I hope you're enjoying this story and Rhaegar's little preemptive strike. I am looking forward to reading your impressions. Lots of love Xx_   
  
_P.S. Looks like I lied in the previous chapter's end notes._   
  
_Definitely not lying now-- **coming up next:** Rhaegar's dinner with Brienne... on Tarth. Will she figure out it's a date?_


	13. RHAEGAR III - The Shipwreck (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Hello everyone!** So happy to be posting a new chapter in this story—which, you may know, holds the most special place in my heart. I don't have a favourite child—except, I do. And it's this one! Haha._
> 
> _The chapter will be divided into two parts solely because, when finished, it reached 12k words. That's a bit too much—but, luckily, I found a way to split it up at a moment with 'cliffhanger potential'. Hahaha! Do not hate me too much—you will not have to wait long. I will post the second part on Sunday._
> 
> _ **Happy reading!** _   
_ **XX** _

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_The high summer sun caressed her hair with its burning rays, making it shine brighter than a golden mine. Rhaegar moved his hands up her neck, piercing through her locks with all ten fingers, working them carefully at the back of her head to untie the blindfold. As the soft silky fabric fell in his hand, her long eyelashes fluttered twice, as if trying to adjust the breath-taking gems that were her eyes to the light of day. Rhaegar smiled, passing a thumb over her cheek. She was not perfect—Gods help him, no—in fact, she was horrifyingly flawed most often than not. But one thing was without doubt, or denying—Cersei Lannister was the most beautiful woman Rhaegar had ever seen, and he could still remember Joanna well enough. The woman had been pure, delicate and graceful like the Maiden herself. But Cersei—oh, Cersei… There was something about his girlfriend that made the beauty of her goddess-like mother seem less than striking—_

_“You lied to me!” Rhaegar rolled his eyes at her sour tone. Unfortunately for him, that something was the hint of madness which burnt within her like wildfire. It made her electric—irresistible. “Pray—what are we doing at the airport, Rhae? You said we’d go to the speedway! You said you’d let me driv—” He pulled her close to his chest and kissed her to shut her up. It was something he did entirely too often, for it worked entirely too well. Cersei slowly melted into him, as if the dragon within him consumed all her fire. _

_“Mind your words and tone, you crazy doll—” He let go of her with a final peck on her pretty lips. “I never lie.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Rhaegar spun Cersei around and wrapped his arms again around her frail form. He embraced her from behind and planted a kiss on her temple. Cersei purred, then squealed in delight—before their eyes was the bespoke silver dragon she had received from the Targaryens two days before, as a present for her 18th birthday. Caught between her own party and the social events her father had planned, Rhaegar knew she had lacked the time to test her shiny new toy. “The speedway is not exciting enough for either of us—today, the runaway is our playground! I want to see you fly your—what did you call the dragon now?”_

_“Silverwing…” Cersei giggled. _

_“Silverwing—I want you to enjoy your dragon at its fullest! Go wild, ride it hard and high!” Cersei moaned at the thought of it and pressed her ass into his pelvis, making his manhood twitch. “You like that, don’t you?” Rhaegar whispered hoarsely by her ear. Cersei nodded, resting the back of her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple again. “Then be a good doll and apologise for being rude.”_

_Although he could not see her rolling her eyes, Rhaegar knew she did just that. “Fine, fine—I am so very sorry for calling you a liar.” Words. Empty words. He was no fool. He knew well enough that she did not mean them, yet he believed in the power of steady learning. Just because Tywin Lannister had never taught his daughter to admit to her faults and to express gratitude where gratitude was due, it did not mean that Cersei could not get there in time. Fake it till you make it!—people used to say._

_“You are so very sorry for calling me a liar and…” Rhaegar insisted._

_“—and thank you!” Cersei finished through gritted teeth. He chuckled, planting his lips on her smooth cheek this time, before breaking the embrace. She hurried towards her car like a puppy unleashed and he shook his head amused—but did not follow her. Instead he turned around and walked back to his Drogon._

_Cersei was well by her car when she noticed him missing. “Are you not coming with me?” She frowned, crossing her arms. “Rhaegar! Rhaeg—”_

_“How irresponsible do you think I am?” He appeared from behind his car with two racing helmets in hands. “In the two years since a Gods’ damn moron has made the mistake of giving you a driving license, have I ever let you speed alone?—would I ever let you speed alone?”_

_The only response he received was a devious smirk. When he got to her, Rhaegar handed her one of the helmets. “Be a doll and put it on.”_

_She looked at his stretched hand. “Why do we even need the helmets now? Silverwing is not a race car—Silverwing is harmless.” Rhaegar rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Cersei took the bobble from her wrist and tied her golden hair in a low ponytail. For all her complaining, she knew all too well she could never win with him. She took the helmet._

_“Now, for the record—Silverwing is not harmless. In fact, Silverwing is not at all what it seems to be. So here are the ground rules. No. 2– anytime you take your dragon off the road to speed about, it’s with me present and you wear your helmet. No. 1—and most important—we never tell Jaime about Silverwing.”_

_Cersei’s eyes popped wide open, their emerald green changing to the burning shade of wildfire. Slowly, mesmerised, she turned around and took a couple steps back to better analyse her silver dragon. She licked her lips lustfully, before biting the lower one in mad anticipation. “What have you done to it!?” She gasped enticed, fully understanding the meaning behind his words._

_Jaime, Jaime, Jaime—their most beloved Jaime. Rhaegar loved the man as if they were of the same blood. Jaime was his true brother in a way he instinctively knew little Viserys would never be. Even at his tender seven, Viserys was too much like their father for Rhaegar’s liking or approval. Some times, Rhaegar found it within his heart to pity the child for having lost the guidance of their loving mother when he was not yet five. But most times, he could not stand his little brother and the way he followed their father around like a faithful shadow, violet eyes sparkling with pure devotion and adoration. Their father was not the type of man a child should look up to! Their father was not the type of man anyone should look up to! And even less so the type of man who deserved to be in charge of a nation! And yet he has been doing just that for a mind-numbing record of 21 years… four full presidential terms and another one still counting. How could a cruel and wicked man like Aerys Targaryen be elected President of Westeros so many times?_

_Well, the answer was fairly simple—an even more cruel and more wicked man saw to it. And that man was Tywin Lannister._

_Rhaegar was young—a couple months shy of turning 22—but he knew and understood plenty. His life would not be an easy one. Great responsibilities lurked ahead, as he was destined to take the reins and lift the country above the filth and corruption his father had dragged it into. Taking care of Westeros and protecting its people was Rhaegar’s birthright—it was his responsibility! And what a great responsibility that was…_

_The age of royalty was nearly two centuries gone, buried in the rubble of the Great War with the Free Cities and in the ashes of the Revolution that followed. And yet he was the direct descended of Aegon XXII, the Last of the Dragon Kings—the last monarch in a Dynasty so great that even the dating system the whole world kept revolved around the Dragons’ deeds! The year was 998 A.C.—**A**fter the **C**onquest, Aegon’s Conquest, Aegon the Dragon, First of His Name and the Conquest of Westeros… Aegon… oh, Aegon!—a glorious name his first son will one day bear!_

_It wasn’t that Rhaegar wanted to bring the monarchy back and declare himself King—not necessarily—although he would lie to say he had not spent many nights thinking about it. How would it sound? King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, of the reborn Dragon Dynasty, called ‘the Devoted’—devoted to the people, devoted to Westeros, always working hard to take care of the country! To take it to greatness, to wellness, to wholeness… not for himself but for itself! All for Westeros and nothing for him! _

_His and Jaime’s fathers were dangerous men. Ambitious. Selfish. Rotten to their cores! They were no real friends—not in the manner he and Jaime were. Jaime was nothing like his father! Nothing at all! Jaime was everything like Rhaegar—a dreamer, an idealist, a man of honour. He would be his Prime Minister—or, in a perfect world, his Hand of the King. Side by side, they could write a great future together… and Cersei was but a little price to pay for it._

_With a smile on his lips, gallant as ever, Rhaegar opened the driver’s door for her and bowed his head. “The carriage awaits, my precious darling doll! Take the wheel and you shall see with your own beautiful eyes what I did to your dragon…”_

_She squealed in excitement, putting her helmet on and fixing it carefully and properly in place—just the way she knew he waited for. He smiled as she got in her car._

_The little price he had to pay—indeed—but it wasn’t that Rhaegar did not love Cersei! He loved her—he did love her… he did, truly! He loved Cersei… but what mattered most to him was that Jaime adored her—fiercely. The young lion’s reaction upon hearing that the twin he loved more than life itself started dating his best friend was one of pure ecstasy! He exploded with overjoy in a way Rhaegar had never seen him do before—it was as if his relationship with Cersei was the best thing that had happened to Jaime’s life! And so, the little vacation fling of three years past was on a steady path to wedding bells._

_They would get there in a year, two, no more than three—for everyone approved of their relationship, everyone encouraged it. Not only Jaime was overjoyed, but also Tywin Lannister and his own father. Such an alliance worked marvellously with everything the two men had schemed throughout their three decades old friendship of sorts. Rhaegar had often wondered if his future father-in-law had not been behind Cersei falling into his arms. Gods, he hoped not! Maybe he was naïve, but—with all his heart—he hoped that the wretched man had not deliberately tried to pimp his daughter. Cersei was so young, she had just turned 15!—good thing his mother had raised him well enough to know better than to take advantage of a girl’s silly curiosities… not that year, at least. After all, she was too beautiful and too ‘curious’… and he was just a man._

_Rhaegar put his own helmet on and got into the car beside her. “Are you buckled up, my love?” He inquired, fastening his own seat belt. Cersei nodded and smiled at him—or at least he so assumed by the way her eyes twinkled. “You look so damn cute with your helmet on. One could almost think you harmless.”_

_“I am harmless!” Cersei purred and Rhaegar laughed._

_“As harmless as Silverwing after I took care of it.” He reached with his left hand for her right and slowly guided her fingers to the steering wheel. “Feel here.” He said pressing her index on a hidden button beneath the wheel base._

_Cersei frowned. “Nothing happened.”_

_“Nothing visible.” Rhaegar corrected her. “Everything about this car is as my mother designed it for you—everything, except the engine! For I played with that myself—and trust me, Cers, I played hard. It took me one year to have your car done and perfect for you. I’ll just say that the engine blocks and heads are not made from our original DLW tooling—they are custom-made race-engine blocks, with cylinders bigger in size and the whole shebang. It has a programable ignition system which allows the spark timing to be customise to provide the best power according to whether that little button I just showed you is pushed in or not. That button is pure magic! It limits the power of the engine to a decent Jaime-approved level—but when you set it loose, as we just did, you’ve unpacked yourself 950hp. That’s more than what NASCAR allows! Crazy doll—my engine with this car’s lightweight, technology, aerodynamics and so on and forth make your Silverwing the love child of a hypercar and a race-car! Go on—try it.”_

_She did not wait for him to ask her twice. The dragon roared loudly and Rhaegar groaned in pleasure. This was perfect! So perfect Jaime could never know about it—for there was only one aspect of his best friend’s relationship with his sister that the young lion disapproved of with every fibre of his body: Cersei and Rhaegar’s mad passion for speed. Jaime saw cars as necessary tools and nothing more. The savage did not understand their soul, their finesse. Speeding, racing, going off-road and other such treats were the only, yet eternal, source of conflict between them. Ironically, these were also the only things he had in common with Cersei that were not Jaime—and Rhaegar did not want to give them up for the world._

_Cersei was good—very good—sure of herself and in perfect control. She could tame the beast effortlessly; she had the skills for it. She knew how to listen to the engine’s purr; she even knew how to listen to his indications. She was the perfect pupil—the perfect partner in crime. For the better part of two hours, his girlfriend took him up and down those two long runways of the airport which he had ‘booked’ for her with generous coin. It was worth it—for she was happy, ecstatic, flying her dragon at top speed—getting bolder with every passing minute._

_“Rhae…” Cersei looked at him while turning the car around for another line. “I want to do something wild.”_

_“Surprise me.” He teased with a smile hidden beneath his helmet. His girlfriend brought the car to a full stop, but in position for starting afresh down the empty runaway._

_“I want to make the accelerator kiss the ground beneath my feet, until we fly high enough and then—” She turned her head towards him. Rhaegar held his breath taking in the madness burning in her eyes and wondering how far she could go if set loose. “—then I want to pull the hand-break and donut like crazy.”_

_“That would not be a donut—you’d only send us spiralling ‘like crazy’, or worse—you’d send us flipping across the field.” Rhaegar bit his lower lip, tempted. “Are you sure you can control the car?”_

_“Yes.” She nodded fiercely._

_Slowly, Rhaegar placed a hand on her upper thigh and dug his fingers in her flesh. Cersei looked at him and held her breath. “I will ask you again—will you be able to control the car, or will you get me killed? Or worse—get yourself killed, which in turn will push Jaime to destroy me!?”_

_“I can control it, Rhae. I can. Trust me—please.”_

_Rhaegar took his left hand off her leg and let his whole body weight sink in the car seat. “Do it.” He wanted it as much as her. Cersei squealed in excitement and didn’t wait to be asked twice._

_It all happened in a heartbeat. The speed meter went up to three digits in a matter of seconds—and it kept on going up the more his girlfriend forced the accelerator to ‘kiss the ground beneath her feet’. Unbidden, he clenched his fingers around the grab handle and looked towards the horizon—which seemed to be getting closer and closer and…_

_“Cersei!” Rhaegar hissed, eyes popping wide the nearer they got to the edge of the runaway. His girlfriend did not seem to hear him. “Cersei!” He barked, suddenly alarmed. The bitch didn’t actually believe Silverwing would take off—did she? “Fucking hells—” The very last moment, Cersei pulled the hand-break. He would have screamed, had the voice not left him. For the longest moment, Rhaegar could not tell if they were spinning like a Gods damn whirligig or whether they were flipping across the field. What he knew for sure was that the car did not seem to still have its wheels on the runaway. Silverwing landed with a loud grinding noise and reality seemed to be clearer. They whirled on the spot a few more times—then stopped with a squealing of wheels._

_At first, none could speak. Then Rhaegar took his helmet off and looked at his girlfriend: “Damn you—you’re fucking mental!”_

_Cersei took her helmet off as well, pulling the bobble in the process and setting her locks loose. “I told you I could control it.” _

_Rhaegar looked at her half in outrage, half in awe—then, in spite of himself, his lips moved upwards. He bit his lower lip and burst into laughter. “That was properly crazy!”_

_“It was, wasn’t it?” She giggled as pleased as the cat who got the crem._

_“You’re mental, bat-shit mental—but so damn good! I'm proud of you, doll.” Purring at his words, Cersei reached for the helmet in his hands and, with a quick swoop, she landed on his lap, straddling him, while the two helmets clashed, thrown together on the empty driver’s seat._

_Used to her urges and demands, Rhaegar thought she meant to reach for his hardening cock—but to his surprise, Cersei wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face into his chest. “Thank you, Rhae…” The words were muffled in his shirt, but this time he knew she meant them. Fake it till’ you make it._

_Rhaegar wrapped his arms protectively around her delicate figure and pulled her close to him. She was not perfect—Gods help him, no—in fact, she was horrifyingly flawed most often than not… but she was his woman, the only one he would ever have. The Gods had settled it such, not for his benefit, but for the greater good of the country. And Cersei was beautiful, and graceful, and elegant, and well-educated—the perfect First Lady… or Queen… he would give her the role of a lifetime even without an acting career._

_He pressed a kiss on her head and she lifted her face to smile at him. “I love you, doll…” Fake it till’ you make it._

_“I love you too, Rhae!” Her soft lift sought his, for once not in hunger. Rhaegar met her half way and kissed her slowly. Just as Jaime had often told him—at her core, Cersei was a simple woman. She only needed a little attention, a little devotion, a little appreciation. Treated well enough, she could be tamed… trained. Jaime’s words—not his. Rhaegar was not as optimistic as his best friend. He knew Cersei would never become a good woman—but loving her well enough, he could see that she did not become a bad woman._

_When she broke the kiss, she trailed her lips to his cheek planting soft pecks towards his ear. With her small delicate hands Cersei cupped his face, caressing his skin with her soft fingers. “Today was perfect, Rhae—just what I needed—so perfect… let me thank you properly…”_

“Today was perfect, Rhaegar—really, just what I needed—so perfect… let me thank you properly…” Brienne’s smile flashed brighter than the stars shining on the black sky. She looked radiant and he could not gaze away from her. _Blue is most certainly her colour_—he thought admiring the way in which the fresh highlights in her hair deepened the beauty of her eyes. Rhaegar smiled, like a fool. He felt drawn to her like a moth to the flame, but Brienne did not seem to notice. With a subtle wave of the hand, she called for the waiter who attended them. “Would you be so kind to bring us a bottle of that fine Volantene red you keep hidden for your favourite customers?”

The evening had been perfect indeed. With the sunset behind them, they admired from up high the Kingswood bathing in shades of red and violet. When she saw the Isle of Tarth looming on the horizon, Brienne squealed in excitement clinging by his arm. That made his heart jump and his manhood stir. He wondered if she knew she was being flirty—for she truly was! So, Rhaegar set his mind on testing that theory—and with every glass of wine they drank, he became surer.

“Always for you, Ms Tarth.” The young waiter bowed his head deeply, prompting Brienne’s cheeks to blush fiercely, as it was her custom. For the millionth time that evening, Rhaegar smiled. They all seemed to know Brienne at that little restaurant, in the suburbs of Evenfall. _The Shipwreck_ it was called, for it was built around the remains of a late monarchical ship which had met its end along the famed Shipbreaker Bay two centuries past, not far from Tarth’s capital. Some rich merchant had pulled it out and beached it where it still stood. From the upper deck, where they were seated, the ruins of Evenfall Hall could be admired in all their glory—the ancestral seat of Brienne’s family. It greatly helped his endeavour of wooing the woman before him that _The Shipwreck_ was an idyllic place. The lights were dim, the sea was singing by their ears, and the winds were dancing all around them turning Brienne’s blue highlights into sirens of the deep, mesmerising him, pulling him towards a sweet perdition.

When the waiter was gone, Rhaegar tilted his head slowly, drinking the last sip of his red Arbor—the second bottled they had emptied during dinner. In truth, the food was even better than Brienne had advertised and the company—oh, undoubtedly the best Rhaegar had had in eons. “I was about to say you need not thank me—for spending this evening with you was entirely a pleasure—but I would be a fool to refuse a Volantene wine reserved solely for celebrities, Ms. Tarth.”

Brienne laughed loudly—and again, he smiled. “Being the daughter of Selwyn Tarth sure has its perks around here.”

“Is that so?—and being an internationally renowned author does not?” Rhaegar teased.

“It’s not like that—there is history between us and _The Shipwreck_’s owners from before I was born.” Raising an interested brow, he murmured a _‘do tell’_ and Brienne needed nothing more. “My grandfather was a friend of Mr. Pahoris, the fish merchant, and it was him who encouraged the reckless man to follow his whims with the wreck in which his nets had once caught at reflux. _‘It sank only nearby, you can pull it out of the Bay!’_—my grandfather insisted—truthfully, I suspect more out of mischief than actual belief. But guess what?—the man did it! And fifty years later, the restaurant is still here and thriving.” Excitedly, she threw her hands in the air. “Later it got, even more, personal—my father proposed to my mother at this very table.” His violet eyes followed her fingers as they passed a rebel lock behind the ear. Suddenly, Rhaegar wished his glass was not empty, for his throat went fully dry. If she noticed him swallowing, Brienne surely hid it well. “—it’s been reserved for us ever since. If we are not here, one will always find it empty. It’s a special treat to honour my father, for some ten years past he represented Mr. Pahoris’s son in the filthiest legal battle with the descendants of the man who built this ship over two hundred years ago. Father naturally won.” She said proudly.

“That’s a lovely tale…” Rhaegar started, but Brienne gasped, lifting a finger to her lips. He frowned, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I just remembered—I need to give you a little heads up! Last time we were here, my son told me he means to make a family tradition out of it and propose to his boyfriend at this table, on the very day he turns eighteen.”

“See—” Rhaegar laughed, throwing his head back. “Dear Albert has it all planned out—and to think that this morning on the phone you were losing your mind thinking they were off eloping.”

“Oh, right!” Brienne covered her mouth with the back of her palm to muffle her guffaw. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He nodded. “I mean, it does sound ridiculous now—but as you said, I was losing my mind when I phoned you. It seemed to me that only something outright _stupid_ would explain why the boys were gone.” All of a sudden, she grimaced, becoming alarmed and very serious. “Sugar—no—no! That was ill-phrased. Rhaegar—I did not mean to make it sound like our boys getting married would be something… stupid, I mean—it will most probably happen. And that is surely great! What I meant by it was that…”

“Brienne, dear—don’t fret. I know exactly what you meant by it. I feel you—come on, they’re teenagers! Life and love are neither how the poor fools think them to be. Albert still has two years to grow before he can play groomzilla. Surely, they might get married one day—and that might turn out great for them. But just as well they may change their minds and go their separate ways. I mean—have you married the boy you loved at sixteen?”

“I most certainly have not—as you know, he was not particularly interested in women.” She reached for her wine glass, only to notice it was empty. “Safe to assume you have not married the girl you loved at eighteen either.”

Rhaegar grimaced. They had touched the subject of relationships only once before, when Brienne had broken up with her partner of five years. For her son’s 13th birthday, she had asked Tormund, her publisher slash editor slash boyfriend, to make Albert a bespoke leather-bound edition of the nine already published volumes of _La Nymphe Europe_. The Northerner went on to do it, for he refused Brienne nothing. The result was to die for!—unfortunately, for him, the man thought a near-decade of collaboration and five years of relationship had earned him a solid place in her heart. In access of sincerity, Giantsbane confessed he had accepted to publish her debut novel solely in the hope of getting in her bed. Alas, that surely got him _out_ of her bed! Brienne appeared at the Targaryen Tower with steam puffing from her ears and nostrils. They got drunk in his office—so drunk Rhaegar ended up confessing he had been married to Lyanna Stark for ten years. Brienne was so shocked she all but forgot about her wildling’s betrayal. _‘Married?—and for ten years? How is that even possible?’ _He could not tell her the whole truth without getting the Lannisters involved, so Rhaegar settled for saying it was a war of prides between him and Lyanna, to see which one would cave in first. After all, it was no lie. 

“No, I have not married her—” Rhaegar said troubling his lower lip for a short second. It was time—time to face his demons with blonde manes. “—I were three days short.” Brienne sucked in her breath, while her mouth twisted into a curious _‘O’_—but the waiter was back with their third bottle of wine. So, they both smiled politely.

Left alone again and with their glasses filled with a fine Volantene vintage, Rhaegar raised his in a toast. “To love?”

Brienne shook her head. “Absolutely not—I don’t want to drink to that.” She laughed—he did too, but the comment left him feeling quite hollow inside. It was unfortunate that Brienne had as little faith in love as he did. He might deserve his loneliness, but she surely did not.

“To our sons?” Rhaegar teased, hoping she’d say something hilarious that’ll send his spirits rocketing back up.

“Not tonight!” Brienne decreed with a loud snarl. “To—how about to… trying one’s best and never being enough?”

“Bottoms up!” Rhaegar agreed with a sigh, clinking his glass to hers. “Although—be without worry—I will not actually ‘bottoms up’ such a fine red.” In spite of her smile, he could sense the change in the atmosphere went both ways. They sipped their wines silently for a moment, then he placed the glass before him and sought her eyes. “A golden dragon for your thoughts, my lady?”

Brienne twisted her lips as if pondering whether she should voice her troubles aloud. Then she sighed. “I am thinking of Jaime Lannister.”

In spite of himself, Rhaegar gulped visibly at her words. _Oh, how quickly the dream of romance has shattered! _A sense of dread and impending doom filled his chest. All too well, Rhaegar knew the confession he had the moral obligation to make could mean no less than the end of his friendship with Brienne—the end of their not yet born liaison.

“That is his name—” Brienne added for his benefit. “The name of Albert’s father, I mean.”

“I know…” Rhaegar sighed. “I figured that was what you meant…”

Uncomfortably, he started fidgeting in his chair. For a long moment, all words seemed to have abandoned him. Then, passing a hand through his silverly blonde locks, Rhaegar let it out all in one breath. “Brienne, I need to tell you something—something that has been on my mind for a while—a decision I took a long time ago and often wondered if I should—if I should change my mind about it, if I should tell you what I thought I knew—what I truthfully knew for certain—and what now proved to be just what it is—the plain truth…”

“Rhaegar—” Brienne reached over the table for the hand in which, unaware of doing it, he was nervously crumbling his handkerchief. The feeling of her soft skin on his, made Rhaegar loosen his grip on the soft fabric. Slowly, as to give her the chance to pull away, he turned his hand over and curled his fingers around her palm and wrist.

“Brie—” He spoke lowly, caressing her skin. “Oh, Brie—I’ve known who the father of your child was…” Rhaegar’s violet eyes met the widening blue of hers. He had to summon all the strength he possessed to keep himself from turning his gaze away. He owed it to Brienne to look her in the eyes. “…for many, many years.”

++++++++++++++++++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you all for reading! I hope you are enjoying this story! I am looking forward to reading your impressions. They mean the world to me, so please don't be shy. Lots of love. Xx_


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